Amorous Perfume Novels & Stories

She had just gotten the perfect idea on how to get rid of Amara. ~•~ “Did you change your perfume?” Lorenzo asked as he walked into Amara’a office, frowning at the overly sweet scent that hung in the air. Amara too, frowned at this. She hated the fact that although she had gotten rid of the flowers Tobias sent, the scent of the flowers still hung in the air, constantly reminding her of him. How disgusting. “What are you doing here, brother?” She asked, changing the topic before it would cause her mood to deteriorate.

But as his thumb brushes over my skin, something shifts. A scent rises, faint but distinct. Sweet. Expensive. Familiar. It clings to his sleeve, subtle beneath the cologne. Jasmine. Vanilla. Amber. My pulse stutters. No. That scent… It’s Lys Éternel. The perfume my roommate, Avery, wears. The one I borrowed once and never forgot because she told me it was a limited edition from Paris, impossible to find here. And now it’s on him. I freeze, hand still in his, forcing a smile I don’t feel.

At five point one million, the hammer comes down. Item one… sold. Because I stared. Because I breathed. Because he saw something in my eyes. I grip the armrest tightly, trying to steady my breathing. My chest is full… too full… like I don’t have space inside me for all these emotions. The second item arrives. A limited edition perfume, made by a world famous perfumer. Only ten bottles exist in the world. It has rose notes… vanilla… warm amber… A scent that reminds me of tenderness… softness… something private. I can almost imagine how it would sit on my skin, how it would warm under my body heat.

Then I walked three doors down to the perfume boutique. The saleswoman recognized desperation when she saw it. "Gift?" she asked. "Yes." "What does she usually wear?" "Something elegant and warm," I said. She pulled a bottle from the shelf. Dark glass. Gold cap. "This is our bestseller. Jasmine. Vanilla. Sandalwood." "Perfect, I'll take it." She wrapped it carefully while I stood there, hands in my pockets, smilling. Flowers, perfume, and chocolate. It always worked with Selene.

She pointed at three different purses, each one an object of envy. “Yes, Signorina,” the staff chorused. The manager waved frantically for her employees to hurry, to not keep Montez’s woman waiting. One perfume clerk nearly tripped over herself presenting Amira with a tray of the latest fragrances. “This scent was imported exclusively from Paris. Only ten bottles exist in the world and we’ve got them. Surely it would suit you—” “I’ll take all ten.” Amira’s voice was sharp, unapologetic. She swiped Montez’s card through the machine without hesitation.

The beautiful woman was about to protest when an elderly man in a dark suit emerged from the back room, his gaze carrying a touch of admiration as it fell upon me. "Mr. Bardier!" The beautiful woman gasped in surprise, her expression revealing that the man before her was none other than the recently acclaimed perfume master and the boutique's owner. "Madam, perhaps 'Fantasy' would better suit your taste," Bardier suggested, producing a bottle of purple perfume from the nearby display cabinet. It featured numerous tiny sequins at its core, glistening and captivating under the light. "Oh, thank you. I adore this scent," the noblewoman exclaimed as she lifted the perfume and took a gentle sniff

Instead, there is an expression of such fierce longing on his face that it darkens the blue of his eyes and turns it into pitch black. I swallow, putting distance between us as I move to announce the last perfume. “And finally, this is Moonlit,” I say as I spritz the perfume I am most proud of. The perfume opens with the smell of wild forest and is an intoxicating blend of florals, including jasmine, tuberose, and night-blooming cereus. I designed it especially for werewolves, capturing the very essence of the night on a full moon.

Under his poky nose, she’s opening like a flower and intensifying the musky undertone of frankincense and leather. He plants sloppy kisses on her chin. He buries his face between her breasts and snorts her deeply vanillic perfume like cocaine straight from the source: the sweaty pores of her skin. The scent is the confluence of everything sacred and profane. Now it seems to permeate the whole room; irresistible, intoxicating, maddening.

Representing the understandable worries and insecurities that come with first love and getting to know someone. The judges take a moment to smell the scent, and I watch apprehensively as they silently judge, before one of them speaks. “This perfume is a meld of different elements, but they all make perfect sense and create a temporary illusion of falling in love.” I smile in somewhat disbelief, I’m relieved that my perfume matches the theme. I also think back to the fact that when I added a drop of my blood, I was thinking about the romantic memories I had with Marco under the Blue Moon Tree. I can imagine those memories create a special function through my blood, creating an essence of “tem

Her signature floral perfume jasmine and vanilla cut through the heavy stench of smoke and blood, sweet and intoxicating, like forbidden fruit laced with sin. She closed the door with a quiet click, eyes gleaming with dark hunger as she drank in his disheveled, powerful frame. “Adrian,” she purred, voice low and velvet-smooth, dripping with lust and calculated devotion. She moved closer, hips swaying with deliberate seduction, the sharp click of her heels on broken glass sending shivers through the ruined room. “My love… look at you. So strong. So wounded. Let me take care of you tonight.”