***Cassius***
I went still.
His fingers around my wrist had no real strength in them, the grip of someone running a serious fever, and I could have pulled free easily, but for one suspended moment I didn't move at all.
Honey and vanilla.
My own scent, slipping through the careful suppression I'd been maintaining since the day I arrived in Sailcrest, through the herb I wore like a second skin, through every precaution I'd taken to make sure this exact thing never happened.
I knew immediately what had caused it, and the knowledge sat in my chest like an accusation because it wasn't the fever, it wasn't the proximity, it wasn't anything external at all.
It was the worry.
The worry I hadn't wanted to name, hadn't wanted to feel, hadn't wanted anywhere near me when I'd walked into this room, had slipped through first, and my pheromones had followed it out before I could pull them back.
My own feelings had betrayed me.
