Unscentable By Jennifer Francis Novels & Stories

“Where is his mother?” Before Franklin could respond, Sienna spoke again, her eyes narrowing slightly, not at Tristan, but at Franklins'. “Your perfume,” she said slowly. “Where did you buy it? I work with fragrances, and I’ve never encountered anything like that.” The room went still, Franklin and Tristan froze.

Our strides fell into rhythm without effort, instincts aligning in a way that sent a strange ache through my chest. His wolf brushed against mine mentally. It was curious, warm and familiar. Mate, his wolf murmured. Mine responded with a low hum that felt like acknowledgment. We found the first trail near a dry riverbed. My nose catches a rotting scent as if something died. And someone tried to cover it up with a bottle of perfume. “What is that horrible smell?" I asked as we stopped to shift back into our human self. “Rogue scent. That was the terrible job of a sloppy rogue. He must have been impatient to go out.

I requested. “How dare you!” Jennifer approached me but the scent of her perfume was too strong. I gagged and she stopped while Azrael stood by my side before, I bent my knees and puked. Azrael rubbed my back gently as I covered my nose before Azrael stretched his hand towards her. “What’s wrong with him?” Jennifer asked as I stood up and curled my face in disgust. “Your perfume, it stinks.” I said as Azrael pulled me to his chest as I inhaled his scent.

I told her she looked and smelled great , and she looked back at me and winced . “Hi Hugo Luke Black. You smell good too. Cinnamon is my favourite scent. “ “ Vanilla is my favorite scent . I'm totally glad Woody scents are your favourite.” What is wrong with me I must sound so obtuse and unoriginal. She chuckled and looked at me sort of chuffed. "Luca I didn't know soccer players knew a lot about fragrances. " Before I could speak , Jessica spoke; "Ex Soccer player . You didn't hear?"

I watched the rain trails winding down the darkened window, when suddenly I caught a dissonant note—a lingering trace of absinthe and bergamot upon the silk scarf at my neck. This was not my scent. I wore no perfume. Julian had once said, his lips against my pulse, "I want only your skin's natural scent, like porcelain after rain." This fragrance belonged exclusively to Gia. Last week I had seen that square crystal bottle of Guilty Absinthe on her vanity. She smiled and said, "Celeste, this is called Peccato. Julian said it suits my complexion." Suddenly, a dull pain spread across my heart, as if someone were slowly excising me with a blunt knife.

Jennifer's voice boomed into my ears and I turned around and realized that the fragrance was coming from her. I shuddered in utter shock. I did not even care about her turning me into a maid. But that smell… it was mine… She stole my scent. The thing she stole from me… my pheromones! She used it to make perfume just to smell like me! Now I understood why the Prince reacted the way he did in the hall. That bitch! Realization dawned on me and I fell on my knees. Seeing my reaction, Jennifer laughed wickedly. She laughed so hard and when she had had enough, she walked out without breathing out a word.

"But I also saw suspicion. She was watching me when I came in earlier. I don't know why, but she was looking at me like I was… an equation she hadn't solved yet." My blood ran cold. "The scent. She noticed the perfume." "What perfume?" Rachel looked genuinely confused. "Yours! That expensive floral scent. I noticed her reaction. Rachel’s eyes widened, a flicker of genuine fear passing over her face. "That’s ridiculous! It's subtle! She's distraught!"

Mom eventually decided not to move the plant. Over the next few days, she realized its leaves were growing larger. They ended up splitting open, and a crimson liquid that looked like blood oozed out. Its fragrance was intoxicating, as if there was a magical aspect of it in the way it drew attention. Mom became obsessed with studying the plant, even abandoning her job in the factory. After experimenting for some time, she discovered that injecting that red liquid into the human body could change a person's scent, even making them more attractive to the opposite sex.

Guilt crawled up my throat, whispering that I was the only thing standing in the way of a mother trying to atone for her sins. "I’m just afraid of making the wrong move, Shan," I whispered. "The only wrong move is believing in tears without receipts. Shut up and watch." A heavy, cloying scent of roses suddenly invaded my senses, drowning out the warm aroma of coffee. It was thick and suffocating, as if someone had shattered a bottle of expensive perfume right next to our table. My stomach churned—a visceral, physical rejection of the scent. Camille walked in. Her gait was unsteady, as if every step on the marble floor was an unbearable burden. A silk scarf was draped loosely around her neck,