Victoria's POV
Just like before, he bent down, slipped his arms under my thighs, and lifted me bridal style like it was nothing. Only this time, he was wrinkling his nose.
At first, I thought it was because I smelled like... well, a literal hostage who’d been dragged through a dungeon, a hunt, and thirty minutes of pure panic-fueled running. I didn’t exactly expect to be rosy-fresh. But then I realized it wasn’t just me. It was him. The wolf. The stupid wolf who I hope I had bruise from springing little him.
"I can’t keep carrying you while you smell like a mutt," Lucian growled, nostrils flaring with pure disgust.
Oh. Oh. That’s what this was.
Good lord, here I was stressing that I smelled like anxiety, sweat, and maybe a little bit of dungeon mildew—but no. He was furious because I
