The Scent That Made Him Mine Novels & Stories

"So you can hold me down and remind me who I belong to." His jaw flexed, his fingers tightening around the leather. "You want that, angel?" "I crave it." The second box. "The Gift of Smell." I leaned in, licking my lips slowly, watching his grip tighten. “This is my scent. The one I wear when I want you to lose control.” My voice was a whisper, thick with promise. “A mix of Roja Parfums – Roja Haute Luxe… and me.” His eyes snapped to mine.

Not even Clark can do this to me! I take back what I said, doing business with him is not good, after all. Who the heck does he think he is, pinning me on the wall? Plus this stupid perfume he let me wear! I hate that it sticks to me no matter how much I wipe it off! This scent smells so much like him, making my day so much worse. "Hey Stace, what's with the face?" Amielle asked. I did not respond, I kept on wiping off the perfume on my neck instead. However, wiping it off with a tissue is not helping, it just makes everything spread!

Something about having power over him. Cool! She wouldn't mind having power over his luscious body. MINE! He said she was his. What the hell did he mean by that? Letting out a low growl in frustration with herself, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. There it was again. His scent! How could that be? Can you imagine scents like that? He smelled so perfect; it was a musky scent with a hint of fresh rain. How could this be?

And sure enough, Jefferson lay back on Hugo's chest. But Jefferson already realized that there was something strange, Homer's breathing sounded weird, and for some reason, instead of feeling happy, Jefferson felt annoyed. The annoyance emanated from a familiar, malevolent aura, Jefferson winced, and instead of the refreshing smell of sandalwood, he smelled a foreign cologne. His hunch was telling him that something was wrong, which made Jefferson unable to go back to sleep, he got up again, but this time he opened his eyes. And how surprised Jefferson was when he saw Hugo smiling lecherously at him with his hands still perched on Jefferson's waist.

I tried to scoot back, but his hand shot out, curling around mine, pulling me forward. The scent of him hit me like a tidal wave, earthy and sharp, with that indefinable something that was purely Malaki. My lungs burned as I sucked in a shaky breath, my body reacting before my mind even had a chance to intervene. My pulse drummed in my ears, heat spreading across my skin, stirring memories and desires I hadn’t meant to recall.

he made me feel seen, wanted. 'Why protect me?' I whispered, my voice shaky. My hands pressed against his chest, feeling the scars— rough, raised lines that told stories of pain. He leaned in closer, nose brushing my pulse point, inhaling deep. 'Your scent... it's pack. Calls to me.' His tongue darted out, tracing the curve of my neck, hot and wet. I whimpered, thighs clenching as heat flooded my core. Slickness gathered between my legs, betraying me, and I gripped his arms to steady myself. The stone at my back was cool, grounding, while his mouth sucked gently, marking me with his taste— salt and wild earth.

His every touch and word brought a feeling of warmth and serenity within me. Apparently, he heard me groan earlier. Perhaps, the voice I heard earlier was his voice calling my name. Maybe he was the one who had been trying to bring me back from that strange and scary dream. I tightened my hug. Her scent was sweet, like dried pine wood. This scent is now my favorite scent. The most powerful calming scent for me.

My hand hovered there, shaking, aching. But I didn’t. I didn’t. Because if I started, I wouldn’t stop. I leaned in, forehead almost pressing against hers. Close enough that I could smell the faint hint of whatever soap she used. Something creamy and soft. Something expensive and gentle and totally her. “You’re mine,” I whispered, so quiet it didn’t even feel like a sound. Just the truth. She stirred again, lips parting like maybe she heard it. Like some part of her knew. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. Deep. Slow. Inhale her scent, exhale the madness.

I didn't mean to point it out, but he was strange. “Fuck this…. You make me hard,” he pressed his mouth to my neck, his hand moved to my chest and he cupped my breast. “Little wolf, any mate?” He asked as he pressed me to his chest. By now I was stiff in his arms. His question triggered something deadly in me. “Sir… I …no” I didn't have a mate and why did he ask? “You are mine…just remember this…my scent is the only thing I want to smell on you,” he whispered, in one go, I was standing as he flipped me around, so I could face him.

“We could be.” My face went nuclear. “Not helping.” He sighed, dropped one last kiss to the spot that was definitely gonna bruise, then reached behind me for the small amber bottle on the counter. The wolf scent. He uncapped it, tipped a drop onto his finger, and rubbed it slow along my throat, right where his mouth had just been. The scent bloomed- warm, earthy, one hundred percent him. His eyes never left mine while he did it. “There,” he murmured, voice rough. “Now you smell like you’re mine.”