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Lucien peeled the envelope open like it was a venomous snake—suspicious, vaguely dangerous, and far too dramatic to ignore on a Thursday morning.
The parchment was thick.
The ink? Bold and emotionally constipated.
But the first thing that hit him wasn’t the words.
It was the smell.
Lucien reeled back a little. "Did he... send this with his own pheromones?!"
He sniffed again, cautiously, like a suspicious cat. "This smells like oc ...
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