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... olite, evasive phrase that would put the two women to rest until dessert, but the scent that hit him from the platter Serathine’s staff had just set down derailed every coherent thought he’d ever had.

It was something rich and buttery, maybe truffle or garlic, but all he could process was that it smelled wrong.

Horribly, stomach-turningly wrong.

He made a valiant attempt to hold his expression, but his face betrayed him before his manners did. His nose twitched, his eyes ...

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Waking up from a nightmare several hours before dawn, Belle fetched a drink of water.

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