She lay in an empty, dark room, clutching a wet wolf cub to her chest, not remembering how she went in and changed.

The heart was squeezed, as if by claws, intolerable resentment and, oddly enough, longing. By evening meetings, which she had been waiting for all day, by quiet conversations about everything in the world, by a cheeky, boyish smile, from which the pulse went off scale, by black eyes, like night, and even by the aroma of his perfume.

Oh, this perfume ... Something so bold, tart, causing a sweet languor in the lower abdomen, for which now I was terribly ashamed and uncomfortable. However, what is she...