DERRICK POV
The scent still haunted me.
Even after a freezing shower, two hours of restless tossing, and one brutal sparring match with Dalton, I could still smell it. Lingering on my clothes. Burrowed under my skin. Kai’s scent.
Fu.cking hell.
It wasn’t even just the smell anymore—it was the memory of how it felt. The way it had wrapped around me like heat, like static before a storm. The way my entire body had gone rigid the second it hit me, primal instinct roaring awake like a beast I barely kept caged.
I wasn’t supposed to care that much. Wasn’t supposed to notice things like that. But ever since I’d cornered him in the library—ever since that explosion of panic behind golden eyes and that goddamn sweet scent hit me like a landmine—I hadn’t been able to think about anything else.
