Chapter 8

Suddenly, Owen was standing right next to him, holding two mugs of tea.

Marc jumped—the man had moved as silent as smoke. This close together, the vet couldn’t help but notice again just how delightful Owen smelled. The spicy aroma seemed to come from the tea, but underneath, like a fine wine, was layered a heady masculine musk, soap, and something sweet, almost like expensive English toffee. Marc breathed deep, pulling that elusive fragrance into his lungs.

Gazing at the knife in Marc’s hand, Owen spoke softly, “It’s called an athame. Normally I wouldn’t let anyone touch it, but because of what you’re here for, I think it’s okay.”

Disappointment sank through Marc. If Owen had been expecting a visit from Animal Control authorities, he must be doing something illegal. Sighing, Marc accepted he had to put aside his wild attraction to the intriguing man. Instead he needed to draw Owen out and get the man to reveal just what was going on.