The building was old, steeped in the kind of prestige that clung to places built to impress. I stopped at the urinal as my guard closed the door behind him. The other scanned the cubicles. Empty.
I finished and washed my hands thoroughly, from wrists to fingertips. The oud-scented soap was a welcome change from the usual citrus or pine.
The guard passed me paper towels.
I checked my reflection. Cold blue eyes, edged with green around the rims—almost turquoise in the light. If only humans knew what lay beneath them. Feral red when Fenrir surfaced.
I handed the used towel back and lifted my chin, adjusting my black tie. My gold watch caught the overhead lights.
Under the guise of sponsoring the event, I was here for a quiet conversation with the Secretary of State for Business and Trade.
Liam Brannigan.
He’d been a very naughty boy.
Which worked in my favour.
The guard hurried to open the door for me.
???
The noise and mingled scents made me sigh. I picked up the programme as a waiter set my drink down. I’d asked for a seat in the corner—far enough to remain in shadow, close enough to see everything.
I inhaled the contents of the glass first. Poisoning attempts weren’t uncommon at events like this.
The winner was already decided.
It was the company I’d read about three months ago.
Her Glow.
Not an industry I dabbled in. I had bigger fish to fry.
There he was—Brannigan. Tall. Thin. Frameless glasses, not unlike Gerald Whitaker’s. Few people knew about his particular taste for underage boys.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
Appointment confirmed for tonight. Sasha.
Efficient. As always.
I slipped the phone away and skimmed my emails as the first speaker stepped up to the microphone.
I didn’t get past the second email.
A scent hit me so hard my head began to pound. Fenrir stretched—and froze.
I hadn’t had headaches like this since childhood.
My head snapped toward the main doors.
Another wave rolled through me as I inhaled the group entering the hall. Too many scents at once. The strongest were jasmine and vetiver, threaded with a hint of oakmoss. Beneath it all—herbs, flowers, and… spices?
What the fuck is going on? I snapped at Fenrir, slamming my phone onto the table.
My guards twitched, but my focus didn’t leave the doorway.
Something was wrong inside me.
