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Dax lets out a long-suffering sigh. He considers Silas, then turns to Gav. “If he has a seizure and starts speaking in Latin, it’s on you.”

That gets a small smirk from Gav, who inclines his head and steps back, gesturing for them to proceed.

Dax turns to Silas. “Alright. One sniff. Don’t take it out of my hands, don’t taste it. I will tranq you and ship you in a crate to Chicago. Then you’ll be Ford’s problem again.”

He cracks the top of the vial open with precision, holding it steadily in front of Silas’s nose. A bit of smoke rolls out of the top. It’s probably because of the temperature change, but it looks sinister as hell.

“Shouldn’t you swirl it?” Silas asks. “Like Cabernet?”

“Just smell the damn blood,” I growl.

“I am. Hang on.”

He bends over, taking a deep inhale like he’s smelling a bouquet of flowers. “It smells like… lavender. Not the store-bought diffuser stuff, but actual lavender. Like the kind my grandma used to grow up the side of her mailbox. And… like a lightning storm.”

My stomach drops. Hard.

“You know that smell. When it’s July, and a storm is rolling in, and you’re standing on hot asphalt?”

Silas’s words suddenly sound like they’re coming from far away. With clumsy movements, I grab for the edge of the table, needing something to hold on to. My lungs stutter. Fuck, I can’t breathe.

No, no. Oh Gods, this can’t be happening.

“It also smells like…“ He hesitates, brow furrowing in concentration. “Maybe… like a sweet resin? Kind of like tree sap. If someone lit it on fire.”

I can physically feel the blood drain from my face.

“Amber,” I croak.

All eyes turn to me. I bend over the edge of the table, not realizing I’m squeezing it until I hear it crack under my grip. My fangs throb, and it takes all my willpower not to reach over and swipe the blood out of Dax’s hand.

I take a deep breath, but that only makes it worse.

I fucking swear I can smell it in the air. I shouldn’t be able to. Not from ten feet away in a cold glass vial, facing away from me.

We have an amazing sense of smell, but not that amazing.

My entire body shivers. I don’t know if it’s longing or fear that has my skin prickling. Fates… I want it.

I want to drink it.

I stumble back, trying to put some more distance between me and the blood. I should have known. When Gav joked about the blood being magic, I should have fucking known.

“Vae?” Caelan stands slowly before edging toward me across the room. For every step he takes in my direction, I take a few more back.

Why? Why am I running from my packmate? Where do I think I’m going to go?

It doesn’t matter. I need to go. Need to get out of here.

Away from that fucking blood.

Because I know that scent, it’s been living in my dreams for days. I think about it while I’m eating, working out, brushing my fucking teeth. I can’t stop thinking about it.

“It’s the—the—” I can’t get the word out. My voice is a nearly silent rasp, the lack of moisture in my mouth making it impossible to speak.

I swallow. Try again.

“The scent. The one that activated my Curse.”