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But sweet for me.
Or he used to be.
Now he moves like a panther or some big cat, his dominance so intoxicating, I tremble before I’m absorbed into his orbit.
Just by being, Jin claws out my deepest truth.
It’s impossible to see him and not remember he’s the only boy I’ve ever kissed.
Just by existing, he owns me.
But that’s not the truth I’ve been dreading.
Not the truth that chokes my airways and leaves me puffing stolen lemon pheromones with all the softness of zested disinfectant.
They take one more slow-motion step before my world collapses.
Because then I’m hit with their scents.
Bishop tastes like peach juice dribbling down my chin and fresh champagne so crisp that phantom bubbles tease my skin.
Jin is lightning. Ozone, salt, and magic after a wild summer storm.
I shiver, I shake.
They’re so edible my mouth floods, but there’s no signs of life from my dead, gamma soul.
No pull to jump them or beg for their knots and bites and bonds. Any butterflies that could’ve survived are pulped by the black hole pit that obliterates my gut.
My scars throb.
They’re not meant to be mine.
My throat itches, my eyes prick with tears, and I’m already mourning my teenage dreams when Bishop chokes.
“No fucking way.” He grabs his collar. “You’re—”
Jin’s nostrils flare, and I thought his eyes were black before—now they yawn, spinning abyss.
Lemon rises like Serafina’s ghost wants a piece of her own, and when their scents rage to match, Jin makes the sound that shatters my heart.
He purrs. “You’re the one.”
But he’s not purring for me.
He’s purring for the lemon pheromones I shot into my throat.
He’s purring for her.
The men I’ve always loved?
The only ones I ever wanted to be mine?
Serafina Redfang is their fated mate.
Lemon buttermilk cake.
Serafina Redfang smells like my favorite dessert, drizzled in glaze.
