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First published December 20, 2016





“I want to brutally beat you and mercilessly fuck you in peace and quiet,” Søren said. “How’s that for a reason?”
“You broke my cross. I took your soul in repayment.”
“Keep it,” Kingsley said. “It’s worth nothing to me unless you own it.”
The only thing even remotely like submitting to Søren was a walk in a snow-filled freezing dark wood. There was the cold of his heart, the terror of the darkness, the exertion of trudging in a foot of snow, and the beauty like no other.
What he remembered was the loneliness. The worst kind of loneliness. The loneliness of being in love with someone he couldn’t have.


“The only thing even remotely like submitting to Søren was a walk in a snow-filled freezing dark wood.”
“I want to brutally beat you and mercilessly fuck you in peace and quiet,” Søren said.”

“You are not allowed. You are not allowed to get lost unless I want to lose you. You aren’t allowed to be found, unless it’s me doing the finding. And the only way you’re allowed to die is if I choose to kill you with my own hands. Your life doesn’t belong to you anymore, and if I have to murder you tonight and paint the snow with your blood to make you understand that, I will. You are mine, Kingsley. End of discussion.”
“I know a joke,” Søren said.
“You do?”
He nodded.
“It goes like this—what did the French whore say when his cock was grabbed by an ice-cold hand?”
“I—”
“That’s right,” Søren rasped into Kingsley’s ear. “You know this joke.”
“Jesus fucking God Christ in heaven you evil son of a bitch…” Kingsley said as his shoulders came off the blanket. He swore in English. He swore in French. He swore in what little Latin he’d learned.
“Funny joke, isn’t it?” Søren said.
“Next time I fall in love with a priest, I’m going to make sure he’s a normal priest.”
“No such thing,” Søren said.
Kingsley sighed.
“I was afraid of that.”
“I swear on all that is holy, if you ever get lost in the woods again...”
“You’ll kill me?”
Søren dug his hands deep into Kingsley’s hair, holding it so tight he whimpered.
“No,” Søren said. “I’ll find you.”








“But baby, it’s cold outside,” Kingsley said.
Søren glared at him, a glare like the fire of a thousand suns.
“It’s a song,” Kingsley said hastily. “I wasn’t calling you ‘Baby.’ I would never do that.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“I’m going to walk now.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Maybe I want to fall to my death.”
“You’re not allowed.”
“I’m not allowed?”
“No,” Søren said. “You are not allowed. You are not allowed to get lost unless I want to lose you. You aren’t allowed to be found, unless it’s me doing the finding. And the only way you’re allowed to die is if I choose to kill you with my own hands. Your life doesn’t belong to you anymore, and if I have to murder you tonight and paint the snow with your blood to make you understand that, I will. You are mine, Kingsley. End of discussion.”
“I need you, too.”
“Now?” Kingsley asked.
Søren kissed him on his neck at the point his jawline met his throat. “Always.”
“I am very scary and dangerous,” he said. “Can’t you tell?”
“That would be more believable if you weren’t wearing Queen Elsa fuzzy slippers.”
Griffin looked down at his feet. “They’re very warm.”
Kingsley glared at him.
“Okay, so they’re not as intimidating as Hessian boots. But how did you know what they were anyway?” Griffin demanded. “Secret Disney fetish?”
“I have a two-year-old daughter. What’s your excuse?”
“Killer fashion sense,” Griffin said.
“I swear on all that is holy, if you ever get lost in the woods again...”
“You’ll kill me?”
Søren dug his hands deep into Kingsley’s hair, holding it so tight he whimpered.
“No,” Søren said. “I’ll find you.”
“I love the scent of winter enough to suffer the cold for it.”

He’d hoped Søren would break him tonight. Instead, Søren seemed intent on breaking him open.


At the time, Kingsley was certain he would never understand how words as cruel as those, how vicious and possessive and cold, could warm him like a bonfire and heal his wounds like a magic elixir from a fairy tale.So, obviously you can't just jump into this novella without starting at the beginning of The Original Sinners. But if you have read the series, be prepared to be knocked on your ass by the sheer pleasure of being privy to these intimate moments between Soren and Kingsley. With so much history between them, it was all so bittersweet and emotional.
"You always hold every card. Every last fucking card while the rest of us stand around with nothing in our hands but our hearts.Gah! It makes me want to go back and reread the entire collection!
God, why couldn’t he live like this all the time? Naked, a slave to Søren, a toy, a whore to be used at Søren’s will as Kingsley served at Søren’s pleasure.
I can go on, because this novella was really more than I expected. I cried with King and Søren , and their D/s encounters were erotic and sexy and everything. But what really made The Scent of Winter as perfect as it was was Søren’s confession. That made my day, my christmas and my entire life.
Thank you so much for this Christmas gift, Tiffany. You overpassed yourself. You overpassed the Original Sinners.