Dean felt the boundary of his field as clearly as he felt his own skin.
Anything that entered that invisible radius around him lost its pheromonal advantage, and, with enough concentration from Dean, anything more complicated attached to it. Abilities dulled. Instinctive pressure disappeared. The subtle biological signals dominants used without consciously thinking about them ceased to matter.
Today, Dean was using it differently.
He kept the field tight around himself and Arion as they moved through the forest, erasing what they could of their presence while never allowing his husband more than a step away.
It made the terrain irritating.
Snake Island had apparently been constructed from wet limestone, roots and things specifically designed to catch Dean's boots.
Arion caught his elbow before he slipped on a moss-covered stone.
Dean steadied himself without speaking.
They had passed the kilometer mark eight minutes earlier.
No communication now unless necessary.
