Cato Clove Novels & Stories

"My grandma sent some soup. I think there's enough for both of us." "Oh, that's great!" Cloe said as she started putting the potatoes back in the bag to store them along with the meat. She heard Túlio stand up as the chair scraped across the floor. The scent that emanated from him, the scent she loved the most in the world, filled her nostrils as he leaned down and gave a gentle kiss on her neck. She didn't turn to him, just kept gathering the potatoes, her entire body on high alert and responding to his affection.

Finally, he leaned toward me and pointed to the ingredients list. “Have you tried swapping out the yarrow for Cat’s Claw?” “Cat’s Claw?” I leaned over the page. “I’ve never heard of that.” “It’s not native to this region.” Damian set the book down, then walked over to his traveling kit, an old wooden trunk full of all of his supplies. He knelt and dug through it. “But I think it could help. Here. Emulsify it with the other ingredients. Add a drop of lemon oil to offset the sour scent.”

Cane’s presence was so heavy it seemed to pull the oxygen from the room. He looked like a god of war, his eyes fixed on the map of Zone 4. “The herbal salve,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence. I held up a ceramic bowl filled with thick sludge and twisted my face in disgust. It was a mix of Silver Moon sage, crushed marsh lily, and a chemical neutralizer. “It’s a scent-masker. It mimics the smell of water and industrial ozone. The Iron Claw won't smell us. They’ll smell the swamp and the machines,” Cane explains.

“Oh, come on. Join us for a quick drink. Surely, your Luna can spare you for just a little while longer?” While the group of them headed down to the lounge, Lorenzo immediately went over to the bar to put in his drink order. While he stood there, he decided to try and send a few texts to Eleanor as well. Suddenly, his senses were overcome by an achingly sweet, floral scent that was practically suffocating him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cate. She wore a stunning dark red dress that exposed a lot more of her cleavage than was necessary. “Hello, Lorenzo,” she purred. “Funny seeing you here.”

Cato asked as we headed upstairs to bed. “A little of this, a little of that…” “Why don’t I believe you?” “Because you’re smarter than that.” I walked through the door then undressed. My clothes smelled like Christmas food, mainly turkey and stuffing. The smell was in my hair too, but I was too tired to take a shower. Cato stripped down to nothing, presumptuous about what would happen now that the night was over. “I’m so tired, Cato. I cooked all day, my back is killing me, and I smell like a turkey.”

“Nnnnggghhh.” I braced myself. Was he losing control? Were tentacles about to sprout out of his head? He seemed perfectly rational, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t attack us. “Toothache.” He poked at his teeth. Through the holes in his cheek. “Receding gums. Makes the teeth very sensitive.” ‘Receding’ was a gross understatement. He had no gums. “That’s why I’m out here. There’s a herb called clovis that helps ease the pain. It grows in these woods; a little blue flower.” He looked around like he might spot it.

Chloe’s arms ached, her legs burned, but she stayed beside her boss, matching his pace. As they reached a spice stall, Mr. Tanaka paused, inhaling deeply. “Perfect,” he murmured. “Cinnamon, cloves, star anise. We’ll need them for the desserts. Pick out the freshest jars.” Chloe obeyed, carefully lifting bottles, unscrewing lids to catch the sharp fragrance before nodding. She packed them into the basket, her movements precise. At some point, as they passed a stall brimming with fruits, mangoes, oranges, bananas stacked in pyramids, Chloe’s steps slowed. She ran her fingers lightly over the smooth peel of a mango, and for a heartbeat, her face softened.

Well, this was unexpected. “Can I ask what is in it? It smells better than what I have, and if it works I would like to try it.” “Yes sir, it is a blend of cloves, cinnamon, lemon, eucalyptus, and rosemary. You can apply it all over your body but focus on the head. Just watch your mouth and eyes.” He responded cautiously, clearly not quite trusting me. “Tell me,” I asked conversationally. “Were you by chance spice merchants before the plague?”

Nezetta suggested as she tucked a strand of Naomi's pitch-black hair behind her ear. The black cardamom was an herb that grew in pods that Nezetta had carefully harvested during her research work in Kyun. It had an earthy and smoky scent with a citrus and eucalyptus flavor. The pods had a tough, dried skin and housed sticky, dark seeds that when crushed and mixed with sugar in small quantities, helped to relieve disorders of the bowels.

A few minutes later, our colorful drinks arrived, and there was still no sign of Clyve. “Where is Clyve?” Kat asked after sipping her drink. Before I could fish out my phone, warm breath against my neck made me freeze. “You look gorgeous.” I turned my head and smiled. “Clyve! I thought you won’t show up.” “Not gonna happen, sweetie.” His eyes danced with humor. Those eyes reminded me of him. Clyve cleaned up pretty well with a dark shirt and pants. He looked fresh than the last time I saw him at the lab. And he smelled sandalwood and mint. He sat in an empty chair beside me after he introduced himself to Kat. Kat giggled when Clyve kissed her hand just like a British did.