Chapter 122

• Clark shrugs, barely sparing me a glance before turning back to the cluttered surface of his desk. His fingers sweep a few crumpled parchments aside with casual disinterest, his expression unreadable beneath the dull candlelight.
• “I can smell his Beast in you,” he says, his voice matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather. “And certain components of your scent haven’t changed.”
• He flicks through the pages in front of him, his tone calm but distant. “If one or both of those things were missing, I’d be concerned.”