The Scent of Rain
1015 Words
The silk was cold against her skin.
Sienna smoothed the fabric down her hips. The dress was not perfect. There was a small stain near the hem that she had tried to cover with embroidery. The straps were a little loose. But in the dim light of her room, the silver fabric seemed to glow.
She pulled her hair up. She left a few strands loose to frame her face. She did not have makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes. She pinched her cheeks instead. It brought a little color to her pale skin.
For the first time in her life, she did not look like a servant. She looked like a girl who belonged in a story.
Sienna took a deep breath. She stepped out of her room.
The noise of the party drifted down the hallway. It sounded like a beast breathing. The bass of the music vibrated through the floorboards.
She took the servants' stairs. She wanted to stay hidden for as long as possible.
When she reached the top landing, the smell hit her.
It was thick and overwhelming. It was the scent of hundreds of wolves. It smelled like musk and expensive perfume and raw adrenaline. The Blood Moon made everyone restless. It pulled at the wolf inside every person in the room.
Sienna pushed open the heavy service door. She slipped into the back of the Grand Ballroom.
The room was a sea of gold and velvet. Chandeliers dripped crystals from the ceiling. Waiters moved through the crowd with trays of champagne.
Sienna pressed her back against the wall. She tried to blend into the shadows.
"Look at him," a girl whispered nearby. "He looks like a god."
Sienna followed her gaze.
Julian Thorne stood at the top of the grand staircase.
He had changed into a tuxedo. The black fabric strained against his broad shoulders. He looked lethal. He was not smiling. His golden eyes scanned the crowd with a predator’s intensity.
Beside him stood Lydia. She wore a dress the color of fresh blood. It was cut low and tight. She had her hand on Julian’s arm. She looked like she had already won the lottery.
Sienna felt a pang of jealousy. It was sharp and stupid. Julian was the Alpha Heir. She was the girl who scrubbed his floors. They were not even in the same universe.
Julian began to descend the stairs. The crowd parted for him.
Sienna watched him move. He moved with a dangerous grace. Every step was calculated. He nodded to the Beta of the Silver Creek Pack. He ignored the swooning omegas near the punch bowl.
Suddenly, the air in the room changed.
It happened in a heartbeat. The heavy scent of musk and perfume vanished. It was replaced by something else.
Sienna frowned. She sniffed the air.
It smelled like a storm.
It smelled like ozone and heavy rain hitting hot asphalt. It smelled like pine needles crushed under heavy boots.
The scent was intoxicating. It filled Sienna’s lungs. It made her mouth water. It pulled at a string in her chest she did not know she had.
She took a step forward. She moved out of the shadows without thinking.
She needed to find the source of that smell. She needed it like she needed air.
At the bottom of the stairs, Julian froze.
He stopped mid-step. His hand tightened on the railing. The wood creaked under his grip.
Lydia frowned. "Julian? What is it?"
Julian did not answer. His chest heaved. He took a deep breath. His nostrils flared.
He whipped his head around. His golden eyes scanned the room. He was not looking at the visiting dignitaries. He was not looking at the Council members.
He was hunting.
Sienna’s heart stopped.
The invisible string in her chest pulled tight. It yanked her forward.
Julian turned. His gaze swept over the crowd. Then it locked on the back corner of the room.
It locked on her.
The noise of the party faded away. The music stopped. The chatter died.
There was only him.
His eyes burned into hers. The gold in his irises swirled like liquid fire. He looked shocked. He looked terrified. And he looked hungry.
Sienna’s knees went weak. The word whispered in her mind. It was a word she had waited twenty years to hear.
Mate.
Julian pushed Lydia’s hand off his arm. He stepped off the stairs. He did not walk toward the center of the room. He walked straight toward the shadows. He walked straight toward the girl in the silver dress.
The crowd gasped. Heads turned.
Sienna could not move. She was trapped in his gaze. She watched him come closer. The scent of rain and pine grew stronger until it was the only thing she could smell.
He stopped inches from her. He towered over her. The heat coming off his body was overwhelming.
He reached out a hand. His fingers trembled. He looked like he wanted to touch her face.
"You," he whispered. His voice was rough. It sounded like he was in pain.
Sienna looked up at him. tears pricked her eyes. "Julian."
For one beautiful second, she thought everything was going to be okay. She thought the fairy tale was real.
Then she saw his eyes change.
The hunger vanished. It was replaced by something else. Something cold.
Recognition dawned on his face. He looked at her silver dress. He looked at her bruised hand.
He realized who she was.
He didn't see his mate. He saw the faint-blood servant. He saw the mistake.
And then, the fear set in.
Julian pulled his hand back as if she had burned him. He took a step away from her. The warmth in his eyes died, replaced by a wall of ice.
"No," he whispered.
It was not a greeting. It was a rejection.
Sienna’s heart shattered before he even finished the sentence.
The music swirled back into focus, but it sounded like a funeral march. The Inciting Incident had begun. And it was going to hurt.
- Writer
