That night, Mason finally returned home. He stood framed in the doorway, reeking of cheap alcohol, every part of him reeked of Olivia’s unmistakable scent —night jasmine, white musk, and a lingering trace of silver leaf. It was a scent widely known for its powerful aphrodisiac effects. It was easy to picture the passionate scene he had with his step-mother. The moment Mason stepped inside, he spotted me seated on the couch, engrossed in a book. He grinned and outstrip his arms for an embrace. But this time, I calmly, deliberately, pushed him away.“Mason, please, go take a shower first,” I stated coldly, my gaze fixed on the love bites marring his neck. He instinctively covered them.“Sorry, Evelyn,” he murmured.“Don’t worry. Olivia is pregnant now. Soon, you’ll be my official mate,” he added, as if those words could somehow soothe the raw, gaping wound in my heart. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, forcing myself to swallow the ache that threatened to consume me.“Mason, I don’t wan
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