No amount of grueling exercise could take her mind off of her husband for long, though. With every day that went by her longing grew, until she dared not think of him while riding lest her seat on the saddle—usually behind Mathin or Raziel—become an aching t*****e.
Oddly enough, none of her companions seemed to be affected by the increased levels of pheromone she knew she emitted at those times.
Wondering if her marriage had something to do with it, she finally asked Mathin about it.
He snorted with ill humor. “Isfael merely remains in Haunt, where one never feels the desire to mate, and he can still scent danger. As for Raziel and I…” He scowled. “We’ve been taking a sinus blocker since we reached you. We can’t smell or taste a blasted thing while using it.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened.
