"Some scents stir hunger. Others stir memories. But the Crownspice stirs obedience, reverence, and terror all at once. To breathe it is to remember that kings are not crowned by hands, but by blood and fire."
The cold shower had only dulled the fire burning through my veins for a handful of breaths. As I left the bathroom and padded barefoot back into the bedroom, droplets still clinging to my hair, I knew the night would not let me rest. The moment I crossed the threshold, the air changed, and it was not just pheromones anymore but a scent. Sweet, heavy, devastating in its beauty. A fragrance that settled deep in my chest, winding itself through every nerve until my knees nearly buckled. My wolf, Vayne, who had spent hours snarling and demanding release, went utterly silent.
