As I sat there, staring at the golden-rimmed plates, my stomach turned. A strange scent filled the air, faint but intoxicating. My heartbeat picked up, and my palms grew clammy.
I inhaled again, sharper this time.
That scent. My wolf suddenly lifted her head, ears alert.
She began to pace inside me, growling low with confusion and… anticipation?
The scent was pulling at her. At me. Like a magnet. Like fire to dry wood. It wrapped around my senses and squeezed.
I couldn’t breathe.
“I need some air,” I said quickly, rising to my feet. The room was suddenly too loud, too bright, too suffocating.
I didn’t wait for Ethan’s permission. I slipped through the side door of the hall, heart racing.
Because that scent didn’t belong to Ethan.
And whoever it did belong to… my wolf recognized him.
And that terrified me.
Ivy’s POV
The nausea hit me like a crashing wave, sudden and forceful. It wasn’t the kind that came from eating too little or standing too long—it was deeper, sharper, as if something inside me was being twisted by unseen claws. I clutched my head and leaned against the hallway wall just outside the gathering room, trying to breathe through it.
This was new. My wolf was restless, pacing, ears pinned back, tail low—not in fear, but in wild discomfort. I had no idea what was happening to us, only that I had to get away. Now.
The hotel staff had given us access to private rooms above the venue in case we needed rest during the gathering. I found an empty one and slipped in, locking the door behind me. The moment I stepped inside and shut out the suffocating crowd and mingling scents of alphas and betas, my body began to calm. My breath steadied. The nausea ebbed into a dull throb, and my wolf, though still alert, quieted.
I sat on the edge of the bed for a long while, breathing in the scentless air, my head bowed low. Maybe it was stress. Or maybe it was the humiliating introduction Ethan gave back there—denying our marriage, calling me just Ivy while Farah stood beside him glowing like a smug little star.
But just as I began to gather myself to return downstairs, I heard the door click.
I turned sharply, startled. The knob twisted, and Farah slipped in, not even pretending to knock. She closed the door behind her with a soft click, her scent wafting in like poison.