She should have been afraid. Anyone sane would have been.
"I'm not staying. You don't understand." She pressed a hand to her chest. "I love Eric. I do. It's crazy. It's stupid. And I feel some kind of bond to his wolf too. I would like to help him come to terms with who he is. Call me insane, but that… that is—" She laughed weakly, frustration and yearning tangling together. "I can't explain it. It feels like my mission. Like maybe that's why I'm even here."
"Do what you have to do," she added. "Bring down my fever or something."
Benedict closed his eyes briefly. "I wish that's all it is," he said quietly. He cleared his throat, discomfort flickering across his features. "But I think I can work something out."
Her brows drew together. "What do you mean that's not all?" she asked sharply.
"Your scent right now," he said carefully, "is an aphrodisiac to every unmated werewolf within ten feet of you." He didn't sugarcoat it. "It's going to drive him fucking mad."
