There’s something haunting about a body touched by magic. Most people can first notice the smell: not the smell of rotting flesh but the cloying sweetness in their noses and a sharp taste on their tongues.
Rare individuals like witches have a distinct smell that any werewolf can scent. Yet this assassin is a bit different.
He can’t smell the sweetness but the natural smell of water drops was there. How come she doesn’t smell magic? She smelled pure.
He wasn’t expecting that kind of smell from her. The pureness that made his wolf snarled from within.
His wolf moves forward urging Lukas to put his nose close to her neck but he fought himself. It wasn’t his job to sniff around and damn his wolf for making him frustrated.
If he could only kill this witch—
“Don’t you dare Lukas,” my eye
