What Selena didn't know was that to Silas, the specific scent of floral oils mattered very little.
The only fragrance he could ever truly isolate was the one that belonged exclusively to her—a scent of damp earth and cold, shadowed greenery. It was like the first layer of decaying leaves turned over in a deep forest after a rain, revealing the fresh, vibrant soil beneath. It was the most familiar scent in his world, a thousand times more potent than any essential oil.
Satisfied by their recent encounter, Silas stepped out of the room, using a towel to casually wipe the stray droplets from his jaw.
He descended the stairs with a light, rhythmic gait, still carrying the unmistakable scent of Selena on his face—specifically on the tip of his nose and his lips. He was heading for the kitche
