THE CURSE OF LUST
Ava C. Torrescursed wolf
He leaned ever so slightly nearer, the small movement enough to charge the air between us, thick with something unspoken.
I could feel the warmth radiating from him, catch the faint trace of his cologne mingling with the crisp scent of old books and polished wood. What unsettled me was what I did not smell. There was no sharp bloom of lust, no hunger clinging to his skin the way it always did with men. Desire, for my kind, had a scent. The curse made it impossible to miss. I caught it on Julian, thick and reckless. Sometimes even on Rowan, despite his restraint. On countless others who lingered too long, who watched too hard. But with him, it was different. I saw the desire in his eyes, in t