It’s called peppermint, Jessica told him.
And it was the male Pengali who stank, not the females.
She shivered with that statement: Daya’s life belonged to her? She didn’t belong to anyone, didn’t want to own anyone either.
But you already do.
The ghost of Daya’s scent wafted through her memories, making her shiver, making her want to run out and look for him, to complete that part of her that was missing. Something had happened that night. Pheromones, her analytical self said. An involuntary, uncontrolled response; something that made no rational sense. Like falling in love, but worse.
She had started that s****l fight. Daya had been trying to hold back. It wasn’t that he had hurt her; she had hurt him, too.
“Are you all right, Lady?”
Iztho had raised himself onto one elbow; his ot
