Chapter 12 · The Scent of Decay

The Alpha was still crouched over me whenhis breath hitched.

His nose dragged up the side of my neck. Slow. Juniper oil, woodash, nine nights of rot—that’s what he was supposed to smell.

Then he hit the pulsepoint under my jaw and went dead still.

Nine days. That’s how long I’d been hiding what’s under my ribs. Scrubbing my skin raw with juniper oil, rolling in the ash pit until I smelled like a burnt-out grave. It worked on the Iron-Crag hunters. They walked six feet past me, never once looking up.

It didn’t fool him. Nothing ever fooled Valerius.

"Don't,"I choked out. I shoved my palm against his chest. His heart was a frantic, hammered rhythm against my skin.

He didn't move. He leaned in again. One inch.

Then he froze.

Not the predatory stillness of a wolf closing in for the kill. He tilted his head, like a sounddidn't fit the world he knew. His hand slid off my hip and pressed flat over his own sternum. Fora heartbeat, in the gray twilight, Valerius looked—lost.

I’ve known the man four years. I’ve never seen him lost.

"Seraphina."

Just my name. Nocommand. No growl.

My feet stopped anyway.