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Summary
Damians scent was that of sand, a lingering smell that clung to everyone in Nanda Parbat, drowned in warm honeyed milk—an immature and young scent, a pup scent, one that reflected his age of only ten years.
That is what his scent should be.
It was what his scent was when she left.
Now, a scent of roasted paprika and sugar filled her nose, the sweet aroma of ripe dates leveling out the spice that tickled the back of her neck with each new inhale. It was soured, slightly, in distress, and the milk wasn't yet completely washed away, but the change was undeniable.
It all clicked. Amina's distress, the fever, the scent—
Her son, her pup, had presented while she was gone, and he was an Omega.
Or, Damian presents as an Omega at ten years old. This is not a good thing.
Series
- Part 1 of In Being An Omega