Page 68 of Bite Me

“Well, yeah, kind of. There are these books about a girl who enters the Donor Program, but then discovers her scent-match is her donee’s brother.”

“Okay . . . Well, in the real world, that’s you and me. It means your scent . . . your pheromones and blood appeal to me, and mine to you. Well, less probably, because you can’t smell my blood. I’m the one really suffering here.”

“I thought that scents were mostly a Were thing.”

“Not Were-exclusive, no. I may not be able to detect emotions with your scent . . . But it still tells me things. We smell hormone changes.”

A beautiful rose blush ignites beneath her cheeks.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I thrust the cloth napkin into her hand. “Why do you think you kept this?”

“I couldn’t stop smelling it . . . I slept with it a few times.” She presses her fingers to her lips at her admission. “This is the reason you hate me, isn’t it? You knew the day you met me . . . You’ve known this whole time.”

“Yeah, and I haven’t told a soul. I wasn’t going to tell you, but . . .” I shrug. “You deserved to know after today.”

She leans forward to sniff me. “I thought it was weird when I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you smelled.”

“Yeah, our bodies . . . naturally attract each other. That’s why I can’t seem to stay away from you, despite my best efforts.”

“My sisters are going to freak out.”

“I’d prefer you not tell anyone.” I know better than to believe she won’t. What does she owe me?

“I won’t say anything. At least for now, while I wrap my brain around it.”

There’s a tinge of red on her neck.

“You should let me help patch you up.”

She touches the wound. “I don’t need your help.”

“Your other option is that I put you over my shoulder and drop you at the nurse’s office, where there will definitely be questions.”

“No.” She immediately straightens.

“I just want to make sure that it’s clean and that it will heal well.” I can’t leave her walking around with a poorly tended wound.

“Okay.”

She swallows as I take a seat next to her on the bed.

I take out the healing balm and bandages from my pocket, which I had stored in my room, and move the hair from her neck. The sight of my bite mark sends my blood south. It’s a perfect indentation. I rub the healing balm on my thumb and then softly over the wound.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

“No . . .” Her pulse rises beneath my thumb.

“You’ll need to wear a sweater or something for a day or two and shower tomorrow morning.”

For the first time, Emma is silent, and in the midst of her room, it’s eerily quiet. Something tells me this place is rarely without music or some type of TV show going on in the background.

“Are you lightheaded?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I was just thinking about how this makes sense. I thought . . . there was something wrong with me. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t make you like me.”

“The only thing wrong with you is that the way you smell makes me crazy.”