Edward Cullen Scent Novels & Stories

If I were them, I’d stay away from me too. By noon, the path wound upward into a valley. The air grew thinner, colder. Snow capped the distant peaks. Edward stopped abruptly and raised a hand, signaling the group to halt. His nostrils flared once, and then he turned to me. “Do you smell that?” I closed my eyes, inhaling. The familiar scent hit me—smoke, but not from campfire. Darker. Stale. “Burned metal,” I whispered. “It’s old.”

Eden looked extremely cautious as he closed the door behind us and followed Aldus along with me. Nodding my head, I answered promptly, “Yes, you warned me but what kind of storm is this! Last night while hunting, I was chased by a group of Lycans and I got to know later that I have an intoxicatingly sweet scent which can attract any male Lycans. Is it really true? I thought that Lycans can’t endure the strong scent of any werewolf. How am I exceptional? Is something wrong with me?” “Calm down, M’lady.”

He says calmly. “You’ve really planned this thoroughly huh?” “Yes,” he replies stiffly. I understood that our stocks have truly been plummeting slowly and we are on the verge of releasing our new scent ‘Noir classique’. I guess that’s why my uncle seems to be so bothered about the sales. We’ve also had some problems with the press recently, anonymous people have been sending complaints to the media that our perfumes are causing skin reactions. It’s currently being investigated, but it has really put us in a tight spot.

But now… I remembered. There was another scent on her. Although it was faint i still caught it and it seemed familiar. My brows furrowed, and I spoke carefully. “I just remembered something. There was another scent on her. Faint, but… familiar.” Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Familiar?” I nodded slowly. “Yes. If I'm right it smelled like a blend of pine, cedar, musk and… some kind of spice, an ear—” “…Earthy spice,” Julian finished for me, his voice suddenly hoarse.

His broad shoulders blocked the hall light, his black leather tunic slightly disheveled. "You are still awake, Elowen," he rumbled softly, walking over to lean his large frame against the edge of the desk. As he leaned down, a faint trace of sweet floral scent—sweet blossom oil, heavily used by high-born wolf females—drifted off his collar, cutting straight through his natural scent of cedar and rain. My breath hitched. Neither Caelan nor I ever used sweet oils. I instantly closed the leather ledger, the warm smile fading from my lips as I stood up. Ignoring his large hand as it reached for my waist, I brushed past him toward the bedchamber.

~ELARA~ I always thought the Moon Goddess was kind, but as my fated mate looked at me with pure disgust, I realized she was a sadist. In the Eclipse pack, most wolves carry this scent of cedar, spice or something wild. Me? Nothing. I’m just a blank space. And everyone here is happy to fill that emptiness with their hate. They call me 'Scentless Mutt.' It’s the only name I’ve ever known, and they never miss a chance to shove it down my throat.

It was the scent. Thick and sweet, yet sharp like fresh rain cutting through summer heat. It wrapped around me, filling every corner of the suite, sinking into my skin. I inhaled deeply, eyes shutting again, letting it soak into my lungs. Gods, it was intoxicating like crushed wildflowers mixed with the deep musk of cedar and something else... something electric. Almost like ozone right before a storm breaks. I groaned softly, rolling onto my back. Did Eleanor change her soap? Or maybe a new cream? Whatever it was, I needed to tell her to stick with it. This scent, this serenity it quieted the noise in my chest in a way nothing else ever had.

Natalie cursed as she slowly turned to the side, rubbing her bruised skull against the soft sheets beneath her. Now aware that she had to be careful, Natalie scrunched her nose, taking in tiny bits of air while she tried to identify the scent assaulting her senses. She was certain, one hundred and one percent certain, that she had never perceived anything like it before. A scent so enticing it made her womb clench. Her pain-fogged brain managed to give her three things. One, the scent—which was a blend of fresh spring, cinnamon, and cedarwood—belonged to a human.

(Not that this scent smells floral or like cherries, of course, just that it smells only superficially of sustenance. I’m not sure what would make someone’s scent smell this way. Hunters, for example, smell almost exactly like humans, just hotter, like food that’s blatantly too spicy for consumption. Werewolves smell like blood, too, but rotten, like food that’s gone bad. Human practitioners of magic also smell different, subtly spiced with the flavour of their magic if they’re weak and more liberally spiced if they’re powerful. Supposedly there are other denizens of the non-human world out there, but the three I’ve just listed are all that I’ve met—or at least, all that I’ve remembered meet

The scent was powerful, commanding, yet inexplicably soothing—a blend of the wild and the ethereal, both enticing and intimidating. Damien’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, his expression shifting from one of triumph to unease. Caleb, too, was captivated by the aroma, though it stirred something deeper in him—a memory, a connection that he couldn’t quite grasp but felt profound at the same time he was gaining energy. The scents make him heal slowly and carefully.