“A moment later, Mere dropped into the chair next to hers and she leaned a little closer to him, intending to whisper a brief question, then stopped abruptly. She was accustomed to his scent, the smell of a summer evening on a lake, but now he smelled spicier. Muskier. Her nostrils flared. It wasn‘t an unpleasant smell, just not the one she associated with him.
She drew back. There was something wrong. She had to find out what. There was one way to do that. She leaned forward and licked his throat.”
-A Certain Kind of Magic, by Jessica Starre
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