Page 25 of Howl for Me
Too much perfume. She smells like chemicals. So rancid I nearly gag.
This is a new development. I thought I was imagining it in the car with Stacy the other day, but nope. Other women smell disgusting to me now. It’s making my job even harder and my dick softer.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I've heard of scent-matches. Heard of shifters finding their mates and being ruined for anyone else. But that wasn’t supposed to be me. I was never wanted or ever claimed. I was good at my job because I didn’t need anyone.
But ever since Cassidy walked into my life, all fire and no fear, I’ve been rotting from the inside out.
“You stink,” I mutter, eyes still on the woman.
She blinks, then laughs, flipping her hair like I’m just being flirty.
“That’s one way to say hi.”
I shove off the wall, and the room tilts sideways. I’m drunk, but not drunk enough to forget her, my mate, and not drunk enough to forget the way she smells when she’s angry. Or the way her lips part when she’s about to tell me off. I make a stop in the bathroom to snort the last of the coke I have so I can stay awake long enough to make it home. Can I make it home?
The next part’s a blur.
I stumble out the door, but I don’t remember the parking lot and don’t remember turning the key. My hand was on the wheel. My foot was on the gas. That’s all I know.
I’m blinded by red and blue flashing lights with sirens inside my skull blaring, and I can't turn them off. Suddenly, it’s all cuffs and cold metal and piss-stained cement and me slumped against the wall in a jail cell, head pounding and heart twisting.
I must have passed out because I wake slightly to the sound of footsteps.
A sharp sound, clicking fast. Too fast to be Hector. Then I hear her voice.
“Johnny.”
I groan and crack open an eye. Cassidy. Hair pulled back. Face tight. Arms crossed like she’s keeping herself from wringing my neck. Hector must have called her. Why the fuck did he call her?
“Why are you here?” I snap, but my words come out in slurs.
“Yeah, well, somebody has to drag your sorry ass out of here.”
She steps forward and squints at me. “Jesus, you smell like a brewery and a corpse.”
“You smell… good,” I slur.
She freezes. “What?”
“You always smell good,” I whisper, trying not to slouch too far. “Like… like home. Like mine.My mate.”
Fuck. Did I say that last part out loud?
Shut up. Shut up, you idiot.
She’s staring now. Her expression is unreadable. Then another voice cuts through the tension like a blade.
“Well, that was pathetic,” Hector says behind her. “He’s lucky I didn’t let him rot here overnight.”
Cassidy whirls around. “You could’ve just picked him up yourself.”
“Oh, I could’ve. But this is a team effort now.”
He tosses her a set of keys.
She catches them, confused. “What are these?”
