A Scent Not Her Own
998 Words
The forest was silent, but not still.
Ariana crouched beside a moss-covered stone, her chest heaving as if she’d run for miles—when in truth, she had barely made it beyond the edge of the ceremony grounds. She wrapped her arms around her knees and pressed her forehead against them, breathing through the hollow ache that bloomed beneath her ribs.
She hadn’t cried yet. She refused.
Tears would only make it feel real.
And it couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.
He chose her. The words stabbed her again, sharp and relentless. He chose Liana. And he didn’t even hesitate.
Her breath caught, and this time, she didn’t stop the low, broken sound that escaped her throat.
The forest answered with a hush, as if even the trees were holding their breath.
Ariana had always trusted the Moon’s will. Always believed the old stories—that when the time came, a true Alpha would find his mate by scent and spirit. That no magic, no ambition, no trick of the mind could interfere with something as sacred as the bond.
So why had Caden chosen wrong?
Why hadn’t he known?
She rubbed her wrist where her pulse pounded, eyes blurry as she stared into the woods. Her scent should have called to him. Should have lit him up like fire. And yet when he looked at her... nothing.
She closed her eyes. And in the silence, something itched at the edge of her memory.
Earlier that day. The gift.
Liana had pressed the small clay vial into her hand. “Wear it,” she’d said. “It’s a blend I made—moonflower, bergamot, a few herbs. Calming, elegant. Perfect for a ceremony.”
Ariana hadn’t thought twice. She’d dabbed it on her neck, her wrists, even a little behind her ears.
But when Liana had hugged her later—longer than usual, hands brushing Ariana’s hairline, her back, even her side—Ariana hadn’t connected the moment. Hadn’t considered that her friend, her closest confidante, had been doing anything but offering comfort.
And now…
The memory reared up with razor-sharp clarity.
Liana’s scent at the ceremony had been… too much. Too sweet. Too perfect. It didn’t just smell like Liana.
It smelled like her.
A chill crept across Ariana’s skin.
Slowly, she stood, her mind racing.
No. That wasn’t possible. Was it? Scent was sacred. Unique. How could someone take it? Imitate it?
Unless…
Her thoughts slammed into a half-remembered lesson from her training days. The elders had once spoken of binding oils—f*******n in most packs. Ancient and dangerous. Made from blood, herb, and sometimes even hair. Used to alter scent signatures. Banned for a reason.
Her stomach turned.
Had Liana…?
A rustle behind her snapped Ariana from her thoughts. She whirled, claws half-sprung, but it was only a doe leaping through the brush, eyes wide with moonlight.
Ariana exhaled shakily, heart pounding. But the tension didn’t ease. Her instincts were screaming now, loud and insistent. She'd spent her whole life learning to trust her wolf’s senses.
And right now, they were telling her that something unnatural had happened.
She reached up and ran her fingers along her collarbone, where the oil Liana had gifted her still faintly lingered. The scent had shifted slightly—it was less floral now, more metallic. Her wolf recoiled at it.
Something was wrong.
Something was stolen.
She turned and began to move again—quieter now, more deliberate. If Liana had used a masking spell, Ariana needed to know exactly how. She needed proof. Not just for herself, but for the pack. For Caden.
Caden.
His name struck her like a blow to the chest. Even now, part of her wanted to believe he’d been tricked, not cruel. That he’d acted in ignorance, not betrayal.
But another part… the part that bled… remembered the look on his face when she had begged him to look again. And how coldly he’d turned away.
Still, if she could prove Liana’s deception…
A branch snapped in the distance. Ariana froze.
Voices.
“...She ran off like a wounded pup.”
It was a male voice—low, mocking.
“She always did take things too personally,” came another. Female. Clipped. Familiar.
Liana.
Ariana sank to a crouch behind a dense cluster of ferns, heart hammering.
“She’ll come crawling back,” the male voice continued. “Or maybe she’ll stay gone. Either way, the pack’s with you now.”
Liana sighed, long and theatrical. “It’s not about the pack. It’s about the bond. I needed it to be real.”
“You used the oil?”
A pause.
“Yes,” Liana admitted. “Her hair. A drop of blood. That was all it took. I even got her to wear it, can you believe that?”
Ariana’s breath caught.
“I had to,” Liana continued. “He never would’ve chosen me otherwise. I deserve to be Luna.”
“You played it well,” the male said. “She looked wrecked.”
Liana gave a quiet laugh. “She’ll get over it.”
Ariana couldn’t feel her legs. Could barely breathe.
It was true.
Everything she had feared—every doubt, every pain—confirmed in a handful of whispered words.
She stumbled back, trying to control the nausea rising in her throat. A twig snapped beneath her boot.
The voices stopped.
A beat of silence.
Then— “Did you hear that?”
Ariana turned and ran, this time not out of heartbreak, but rage.
Branches whipped at her face, her legs pumped hard, and her wolf surged beneath her skin, begging to be let out. But she held back.
She needed distance. Clarity.
She needed a plan.
She wouldn’t just accuse. Wouldn’t scream and cry like the jealous girl they now thought she was.
No.
She would gather proof.
She would find someone who believed her.
And she would burn the lie to the ground.
- Writer
