I came to the Ironridge Fall Festival to sell perfume.
I left carrying something I couldn’t bottle. The scent of a man who looked at me like I was the answer to a question his body had been asking for years.
He’s dangerous. Wild. A motorcycle club enforcer whose wolf barely stays leashed on a good day. He says I’m his. He says his wolf has never been wrong.
My nose has never lied to me either.
I’m a perfumer. I speak in chemistry and base notes and the quiet language of scent. And something in him smells like the one thing I’ve been trying to create my whole career — the thing I never knew I was missing.
He’s asking me to stay. To trust a wolf who can’t fully trust himself.
But what if the most volatile man I’ve ever met is also the only one who can reach me?
