The Perfume Burned His Eyes Novels & Stories

His aspect was harsh. He was mugging at me, his face full of aversion. I could feel his eyes burning into me. I feel uncomfortable and slightly aroused. What the fuck is wrong with me? “ I ’m then for the training, ” my voice was simply a hum. He took a step forward before stopping himself. The look he gave me nearly floored me. I could see him battling with commodity inside of him, conceivably his wolf. Hurt and pain flashed through his eyes before he snappily composed himself. His eyes darkened as his nostrils burned . He shook his head and scrunched his brows together; he looked repulsed by me. I ’ve just had a shower. Surely I do n’t smell. I took a deep breath and was hit by a strong va

“What’s made the difference?” “I have no idea what happened between 1977 and now.” He shook his head as though still not believing so much time had passed. “But if we’re mates, it makes sense that you would feel so passionately for me.” “And I do.” He fixed me with those amber eyes and leaned in so close that I could smell his cedar and woodsmoke scent through the strawberry steam. I lost myself in warm caramel irises infused with shards of molten gold. Running through the irises were tiny flecks of yellow that darkened as they reached a thick ring of umber that melded with his lashes.

I watched her desperately straining at her chain before the flames engulfed her. Then, as someone poured gasoline on my back, it began to burn and seep into my newly opened wounds. Then a man came up from behind me. He had a long, deep scar that stretched from his forehead to his neck, and he had a vicious sneer. As he attempted to approach me, I growled. When the light from the fire hit his face, he grinned and his eye glittered like a wild animal. My eyes felt like they were on fire as the gas flowed into them and down my face. My eyesight became hazy, and I whimpered. I overheard the man giggling.

"Are you tearing up on me? Or just wiped out?" I lowered my eyes. Under the whiskey, I smelled something else on him: perfume, light. It was Vivian's favorite.

"The perfume you gave me is very special. I like the smell." He cracked a smile that was flirtatious. "I'm glad you like it. Let me put it on you." As he spoke, he went to get the perfume and sprayed it on me a few times. He even sprayed it on my forbidden area. I didn't see this coming. With a scream, I closed my legs. The fragrance filled the air, and his dark blue eyes were filled with tenderness. He held my face and muttered, "My goddess, you make me crazy. Look, he can't wait anymore."

I said. He stood beside me, staring at the smoldering ashes. His eyes were filled with regret. What a joke. He was the one who threw away our ten years for another woman, and now he was standing here trying to look heartbroken? I turned to leave, but he thought I was sulking and pulled me into his arms. The scent of her Chanel perfume hit me so hard. I couldn't stop sneezing. It was Emily's signature perfume. He didn't let go. Instead, he held me tighter, like he was trying to make up for something.

"Why do you... smell like rain and wild jasmine?" Hope flared in my chest, hot and bright. "Yes! That's me! You used to say that—" His expression slammed shut, the shutters coming down with the force of a steel trap. The confusion hardened instantly into revulsion. He shook his head as if physically clearing a fog, then glared at me with renewed hatred. "Perfume," he spat. "That's all it is. A trick. A witch's glamour to make a rogue resemble a dead woman."

Something hot tightened. He turned and looked at me. He looked deep into my eyes like he wanted to see beyond the lies. His eyes burned, it pulled me in. My eyelashes fluttered like a trapped bird trying to escape a cage. Suddenly, his gaze moved down for one second, one tiny second, and my knees almost forgot how to hold me up. “And this?” he asked, lifting a small perfume bottle. “It’s soft,” I said. “Warm.” “And seductive,” he added.

His eyes were bloodshot. He lowered his head and looked at her. Then, he whispered with gritted teeth, "What?" "I do not like the smell of the perfume I have on. I need to shower," Olivia came up with a lame excuse. He had smelled the perfume just now. It wasn't cheap, but it was unpleasant. It was the type of perfume that both of them disliked. It smelled like slutty women at nightclubs. He released his grip on her and said, "You have five minutes."

He walked up to me, his gaze intense, like a predator eyeing its prey. I could smell his scent—a light, woody fragrance mixed with a hint of a woman's sweet perfume. He never liked cologne. I had given him a bottle once, and he had said it was too gaudy. Yet, if Giselle said she liked it, he would willingly wear it. I sniffed, feeling my eyes sting. "Aurora, can you reconsider?" he asked. When he looked at me, he seemed so sincere, as if there was no one else in his world.