The mansion was too quiet. Andrew had learned that silence in this place usually meant trouble. Tina quiet meant chaos brewing. The scent hit first — faint, but distinct. A curl of vanilla mint wafted down the corridor, sweet but sharp, swirling around him like a whisper that had lost its way. He stopped mid step, his instincts flaring. Her pheromones was stronger than usual. Richer. Uncontrolled. He frowned.
"Tiny?"
No answer. He tried again, louder this time.
"Tina?"
Still nothing. Only the soft hum of the air conditioner and the faint ticking of the antique clock in the hall. He followed the scent — it grew thicker, more intoxicating, the closer he got to her room. It mixed with something else too, something warmer and sweeter: honey. His own pheromones responding against his will. That wasn't good. Not good at all. He reached her door and knocked gently.
"Tina, are you okay?"
A muffled thud came from inside. Then her voice — strained.
"G-Go away, Andrew! Don't come in!"
