Page 124 of The Darkest Hour

Her breath hitched slightly.

I groaned, savoring the sweet and tart taste of strawberry mingling with the salt of her skin.

A primal satisfaction settled deep within my chest.

But that was what happened every time I touched her.

Every time I tasted her.

It was like a piece of my heart falling further into her orbit, spiraling into something I couldn’t fully control or even understand.

Never taking her gaze off me, she finished that strawberry.

“Good wildcat.” I fed her another berry, and my gaze followed the seductive motion of her lips.

The way they wrapped around the fruit.

The way her throat moved as she swallowed.

She was intoxicating, in a way that had nothing to do with just the physical alone.

It was everything—her strength, her determination, the way she challenged me at every turn.

And then there was that scent, that goddamn lush orange spice fragrance that clung to her skin, weaved its way into my senses, and drove me wild.

I breathed in deeply, letting her scent fill me.

Letting it flood my lungs.

My mind.

Since I’d held her on that raft out in the dark ocean that scent had melted into my very being.

She’s changing me and. . .it’s too late for me.

Now her scent was everywhere. It was all I could think about. It was in my clothes, in the air around my body.

But most of all, it was in me.

Lodged deep in my chest.

I couldn’t smell myself anymore. My own scent had been overtaken and swallowed up by hers.

Will I forever smell like her?

It was a strange, almost disconcerting thought—one that I couldn’t quite shake.

For all my life, I had always been aware of my own scent.

It was a part of who I was, something I had lived with, honed, used to navigate the world.

But now. . .I smelled like her.

Even scarier. . .I couldn’t remember what I used to smell like before she became part of me, before she took over every inch of my senses.

“Havoc.”

“Onyx.” I fed her another strawberry.

---