Smells fear

Fear was delicious. It was sour and pooled in the sweat of wicked men. It dribbled into their sinful blood, and like discordant sounds arranged suddenly into the loveliest kind of music, turned bittersweet. And it made stalking delightful. Fear caused paralysis, fogged the mind, and lent her prey the impetus to run. And when they ran, it twisted all the right places inside Ryn’s stomach.
Naomi’s fear was different. She fled the asura and trailed the musk of terror chemicals on car hoods and concrete. It wasn’t a right smell. It was ripe-things-turned-rotten, like a rain shower filled with heavy oil. It was profane.


Chapter 6, Page 76