Aurélie POV
“Your mate?” I asked through the mind-link.
“Yes. I can smell her,” Fabrice replied. “Her scent is here in the house. It’s new.”
“What does it smell like?” I drew in a slow breath, but all I caught was Damien’s familiar scent sweet, dark leather.
“Lemon drizzle cake…”
“Lemon drizzle cake?” I laughed silently through the link.
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “Something lemony, with a hint of sugar.” I felt his embarrassment even before his voice warmed with it.
Shouldn’t I feel jealous? Yet I didn’t not even a flicker. Not like the visceral, volcanic jealousy that had erupted when Geneviève touched Damien’s shoulder. Back then, my wolf had screamed for blood, for bone, for the chance to twist her wrist until it snapped.
That wasn’t fear of losing Damien.
That was hatred pu
