Except from Bound by War
The cooling unit kicked on, and a breeze drifted across him. It brought
with it a tantalizing scent. Brine. Salt. Seaweed. Tangy, but coldly fresh and
invigorating. Made him think of sunlight reflecting off gently rolling waves
and warm breezes.
Every nerve lit up, but his body was still mostly uncooperative. That scent
belonged to someone. Stars above, he wanted to hunt the owner of that scent
down, subdue them, and carry them back to his dwelling. He’d provide for them
and kill any male who came too close.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
He was used to the odors of blood, sweat, and the atmospheric bitter
scent of a discharged phasers. Added into that was often anger, which had its
own acidic flavor. He’d lived with that one for longer than he cared to
remember. But this scent made him hunger for something he’d never had
before: a partner.
