Chapter 122 The Scent Of Us


    Slowly, I shifted into my white wolf.


    His wolf stared at me. Still. Intense. Almost reverent. My heart raced. He’d seen my wolf before, so why was he looking at me like that now?


    Stop staring…


    “Let’s go,” he gestured with a nod, letting me walk ahead.


    We ran together. At first just a sprint… then a full–speed dash, weaving through trees, tearing through the forest toward the Academy.


    The familiar scent of the Academy grounds hit me before I even saw them.


    Ronan slowed to a stop in the forest and shifted back into his human form in a smooth motion. But <i>he </i>was standingpletely bare before me. I instantly turned my head.


    He strode up to a thick branch where a bundle of dark fabric was nestled. Tugging it free, he turned and held it out.


    “Change into these,” he said, casually flicking a nce toward me, as I was still in my wolf form.


    My ears flicked. I tilted my head. “These?”


    I padded forward cautiously, sniffing the air around the bundle. Familiar. Too familiar. I gingerly took it in my mouth and dashed behind the thickest oak, the cloth trailing like a g between my jaws. There, hidden from view, I shifted back.


    The moment my hands touched the fabric, my heart stilled.


    These weren’t just any male uniforms. They were mine.


    My heart fluttered strangely as I slipped into the clothes.


    By the time I stepped <i>out </i>from behind the tree, Ronan had already dressed. His uniform clung to him in all the right ces, his hair was tousled in that infuriatingly perfect way. He stood with his back to me, arms crossed, shoulders squared as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.


    “How did you… get these clothes?”


    He turned at the sound of my voice, and the corner of his lips quirked upward in a slow, knowing smirk. “I have my ways.”


    I narrowed my eyes, stepping closer. He definitely had someone who did this kind of work for him. Someone who he had probably mind–link. Thinking it over carefully, Ronan was a mystery to me. I knew nothing about him.


    Though honestly, I did not have time to think about him. My hand went to my long hair. “What should I do…” I murmured to myself, trying to urgently think of a solution when I found Ronan suddenly standing closer.


    “Looking for this?” he asked, holding up a small ss bottle.


    I gasped. “Wait–what? How–where did you get that?” I took a step toward him, reaching for it.


    Of course, he lifted it out of my reach with a teasing grin, his other hand sliding around my waist before I could even register the motion. He pulled me close, chest to chest, my breath catching hard as he whispered, <i>“</i><i>You </i>dropped it back there. I held onto it…just in case.”


    My breathing grew uneven due to the way he looked at me.


    Chapter 122 The Scent Of Us


    My palms rested instinctively on his chest, his heartbeat a steady thrum beneath my fingertips. He smelled so manly. “Ronan…” I whispered, eyes flicking to the bottle still dangling above my head, “Give me the perfume.”


    Instead of cing it in my hands, he slowly uncapped the bottle. “I should probably do it,” he said, voice dipping low, “In case you miss a spot.”


    Before I could protest, he leaned in.


    His hand brushed my hair to the side, exposing the delicate slope of my neck. Then I felt it, a cool mist of fragrance, followed by the heat of his breath ghosting over my skin.


    My body shivered. My throat went dry.


    His face was so close. Too close. His mouth hovered near my ear, his breath deliciously warm and slow as he lingered there, like he was savoring the way I trembled beneath his touch.


    I could feel his eyes on me. Watching every involuntary shift in my body. The goosebumps blooming across my skin. The hitch in my breath.


    “What are you doing?” I swallowed hard when his nose brushed my neck.


    “Inhealing your addictive scent before it disappearspletely,” I froze, feeling his lips ever so slightly brushing my skin.


    I clenched my pants at my sides to control this forbidden feeling rising in my heart as I whispered, “How do I


    smell?”


    “Sweet,” his lips trailed down to my throat, “Addictive,” he pressed his lips harder and bite lightly, “And infuriatingly mine.”


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