Irene.
Zayn’s hands shook as he stared at the glass tube. The scent was unmistakable. Sweet lavender with undertones that were uniquely hers.
Memories flooded his mind. Xavier would poison him with concoctions that made Zayn believe his mate was still alive. He would blindfold him and manipulate his senses. Using his mate’s scent from the lock of her hair, Xavier would taunt him about taking her.
“Fuck, she’s so tight, Zayn! Do you hear her screaming my name?” Xavier’s taunts echoed in Zayn’s mind.
The sounds of lust and love making clouded his mind, pulling him into a nightmare he had long buried in the vault of his mind. Zayn’s grip tightened on the glass tube, his knuckles turning white. He didn’t respond to Ezra, he couldn’t trust himself to speak.
