The following weeks became a blurred cycle of science and sin. Lucian no longer cared for his wealthy clients; the commissions for the elite were trivial compared to the alchemy he was performing with Aria.
He spent his days in the lab, tweaking the catalyst, creating variations. He wanted to know how different moods affected her chemistry. He created a "Melancholy" scent to see if her sadness would make her smell sweeter, and a "Fury" scent to see if her anger would make her musk sharper.
Each experiment ended the same way: with them tangled together on the leather chaise, the room smelling of obsession and salt.
"You're becoming obsessed, Lucian," Aria said one afternoon. She was draped in one of his silk robes, sipping a glass of chilled champagne.
Lucian was at his workbench, sta
