Valerie
I followed Lucas out into the garden, where the air carried the smell of fresh roses and fertile soil. I hadn’t seen a flower in ages—not a real one, at least. Werewolves were not typically fans of flowers, or any plant with an overwhelming smell, really. Their noses were far too sensitive.
Occasionally, the aunts would bring in fake flowers for certain sales events, to give the shop a bit of a homier feeling. They said the sight of them would evoke thoughts and feelings from the patrons—thoughts and feelings that would eventually end in a purchase. But it never felt quite the same, and the only thoughts they ever evoked from me were the ones of my mother’s garden. How desperately I wished I was standing in it. Smelling the sweet, floral aroma.
But here, the smells circled aroun
