Damian's words swirled through her thoughts, along with the scent of his blood.
Even the scent of his blood barely impacted her senses.
"They are on the scent of the cubs..." he whispered, "straight to the Lyadov uplands."
The scent of her lotion still hung in the room, and he breathed the amber-vanilla deeply.
Damian's suite was lit only by a blazing fire in the hearth.
It was a truth acknowledged by the primal instinct drawn to the scent of his blood and invigorated by his touch.
Dean instinctively sniffed the air for the smell of cordite but his nostrils picked up only the scent of alcohol.
She loved his scent, the feel of his hard, warm body against hers.
The sense of peace descended upon her again, and she relaxed against him, content to her soul to be surrounded by his scent and heat.
He gathered her warm body in his arms and smoothed away the curls that clung to his face, breathing her deep scent before he dropped into the first peaceful slumber in ages.
Engulfed in his heat and scent, she relaxed.
The odd scent was closer, and she found herself breathing in deeply to try to capture it.
Her body entwined with his, she breathed in his scent as deeply as she could.
The scent of his blood made her mouth water, and she breathed him in.
She groaned at the sensations he caused, soon drowning in the scent of blood and need to feel him inside her.
His scent and heat, the warmth of his magic, the heady sensations of being so close to him … She concentrated on placing her feet and not on his body.
She heard the blaring trance music before she opened the car door and smelled the unmistakable scent of marijuana mixed with incense and body odor.
Tired, she wiped her eyes, an ache fluttering through her at the lingering scent of Dusty on her skin.
He gazed at the distant blaze, the scent of burning vamps carried on a wind along with the rain.
The scent of his blood overwhelmed any objection she could make, and she snatched his arm.
She stared at the embroidered tablecloth, tormented by the scent of food she couldn't eat and the visions of death and betrayal that left an acrid taste in her mouth.
His scent made her heart quicken and her drowsiness dissipate.
She pocketed her list and trailed him to the area just beyond the patio, where the scent of hot dogs and s'mores greeted her long before she reached the small group circled around a bonfire.
She was grateful; the scent was both nauseating and infuriating.
The faint, sweet scent was close.
Except she was suddenly hungry again, the faint, sweet scent winding through her senses.
The scent of blood was crippling.
Too aware of him, she tensed as he crouched beside her, the scent too potent to be a dream.
Her senses became saturated quickly by his scent and heat.
She smelled it suddenly and jerked, scouring his body to find the blood whose scent stirred her senses.
She sighed and breathed in the scent of his warm skin and the lingering, faint smell of blood.
She fed, ensnared by his scent, until she was soothed then tucked her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder.
Madness was settling into her at the scent and sight of his blood.