Page 86 of First Offense

“That was all I needed,” I spoke through my teeth.

“And yet, you can’t tell mewhy.” He tsked. “How dis—”

“I knew,” I snapped, so riled up I could barely think straight. “I knew they weren’t meant to be mine. I knew we didn’t need a second meeting. Because none of them smelled like you!” I shouted, the truth spilling from my lips as his evergreen scent washed over me, dousing me in its perfection.

My heart stopped with the admission.

Auric froze.

And Novak whistled, his feathers unlinking with mine. “I guess she really did know,” he murmured, his deep voice a caress to my senses that I didn’t want to acknowledge.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I fled.

To the bathroom.

23

Auric

I frownedat the bathroom door. Layla had escaped into there shortly after admitting the real reason she’d avoided her suitors.

Me.

My scent.

Our history.

Her revelation had floored me into silence, which had then resulted in her fleeing the room to the only private space she could find.

And I couldn’t blame her.

I’d been a complete ass, allowing my jealousy to drive my reactions in a conversation that should have been handled with much more care.

But the notion of Layla with another man…

Fuck. I clenched my fists, violence riding my spirit.

I knew her father would have hired her a consort or a paramour, someone to ease her into womanhood. It’d been part of the reason I’d left. I didn’t trust myself not to kill that man.

Ormen.

Gods, she’d probably been with several.

Her father would have wanted her prepared for matrimony, and given the proclivities of the dukedom, she would have been expected to know how to perform.

Such an archaic approach, but one the Nora thrived upon. Women were rare. They were cherished. But they were also set upon pedestals and expected to perform.

I swallowed and looked at the door again. At some point, she had to come back out, and I still had no idea what to say to her.

In a world where females were outnumbered ten to one, it was extremely common for the females to find several potential mates. I’d expected someone within the dukedom to be suitable for her.

To learn that none of them had been compatible was shocking. And yet, I hadn’t felt shocked by her admission. I’d been pleased.

No, beyond pleased. I’d been elated. Because it meant she hadn’t found anyone else. Which was precisely the wrong reaction to such a reveal.

Females were expected to mate by their twenty-fifth year. It was just how society worked. It also coincided with the procreation requirements—most females were fertile in their midtwenties. Not all conceived, as it was a difficult process to birth an angel, but chances increased when pairings occurred early in the female’s twenties.