Seraphina's POV
I was scrolling through the photos on my phone when I smelled the shift in the air.
Mortimer's pheromones, which had been leveling out, suddenly went jagged and acrid. It was the scent of a predator grinding its teeth in the dark.
My heart did a nervous skip—I thought his hand had started bleeding again, so I snapped my head toward him.
He looked like a thunderstorm. He was radiating a massive, toxic low-pressure zone, like he was holding back a riot.
I almost asked him if the pain was back, but then I caught myself. "Not my problem." I bit my tongue and started to look back down at the screen.
But Mortimer couldn't hold it in. The room was thick with the smell of gunpowder and ego. "Where were you?" he barked. "How long does it take to get a cup of water?"
I looked
