When it all went down, Cecilia hadn't been reckless. She'd woven a tight cocoon of her own mana the moment Arkai's control began to fray.
She'd managed an invisible shield to contain the explosive pheromones of his rut and the unique signature of her own scent.
After the frantic, breathless sex behind the bush, she'd doubled down, pushing her mana out again for a post-coital cleanse, forcing the lingering traces of sweat, skin, and sex to cling to the ground, to the snow, to anything but the open air.
Arkai too had summoned a thread of wind magic. He'd gathered what scent he could from the immediate area and launched it straight up beyond the clouds where no nose could ever find it.
Between them, they'd done the work of thieves covering their tracks, scattering evidence to the heavens and burying it in the frozen earth.
