Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan

Chapter 19

Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan By Kellie Brown

Chapter 19 Making Perfume

Tanya’s POV:

The moment the door swings open, I’m struck by a variety of delectable scents. My eyes widen as I step inside and take in the sight of the quaint space in the attic. The room has been refurbished with a large desk and several shelves full of equipment and ingredients.

There are several copper and glass distillation stills, as well as various tubes, beakers, and droppers. The shelves are lined with jars of dried herbs, barks, and resins. There are also vials with a variety of solvents and oils.

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The equipment and materials here are brand new and sophisticated, only of the highest quality. The smells that fill the air are so delectable that my heart skips a beat. Marco has even provided a few blank journals for me to record different formulas and take notes.

It’s not just a hobby room; this is a fully stocked laboratory for me to create perfumes and potions. The little apothecary shop he’s made for me right in his townhouse is a dream come true. This space is perfect for me, cozy and well equipped, so I can comfortably spend hours in here doing what I love. The thoughtfulness behind Marco’s gift fills me with warmth and joy.

He promised me a Valentine’s Day gift, but I never expected this. I had no idea he knew how much my work meant to me, and the possibilities of what I could do with these supplies seem endless. There’s so much I can experiment with, not just commercial perfumes but tinctures, lotions, balms, and all kinds of fragrances.

I try to remind myself that this is just a formal gesture. Marco has made it clear that what he feels for me is not love but rather a sense of marital duty and responsibility. I know I should be reasonable and logical in response to his gift. But I believe that to create this room for me, at least in some way, Marco must truly care for me, and I can’t help the joy and grat*itude that fills my heart.

Third POV:

Madame Carlotta is not only the owner of the capital’s successful dress store, but she is also the most prolific and respected fashion designer in the kingdom. She does not often make house calls, but on this occasion, she will make an exception for an old friend.

In preparation for the Autumn Equinox banquet, she visits Lily’s mother, Vivian Montenero, in her home. Vivian welcomes Madame Carlotta with friendliness and enthusiasm, and the designer quickly gets to work taking her measurements for the gown Vivian will wear to the banquet.

While Madame Carlotta gets to work, the two women chatter away happily.

“Honestly, Vivian, you should have seen it!” Madame Carlotta says with an excited smile. “I thought I would never find someone who could wear the Treasure of the Store gown. But that girl prince Marco brought back wore my masterpiece so perfectly, I gave her the dress!”

Vivian Montenero arches a brow with interest at the news. She knows that even her daughter Lily and the other noble ladies of the court were never able to pull off the famous gown.

“She must be very special indeed if you let her keep your Treasure. Is she really so beautiful?”

Madame Carlotta nods eagerly.

“Yes! Her figure is slim but elegantly curved, with fair skin that looks like porcelain and the most stunning turquoise eyes that seem to match and compliment her husband’s. It’s like Marco’s eyes are

the fair blue of a clear sky, and his wife’s are the exotic blue-green of the sea. Honestly, they look like a perfect couple.”

“She sounds lovely! If I ever get the chance, I would quite like to meet her,” Vivian exclaims.

“You should! She truly is lovely,” Madam Carlotta agrees. “And she’s not arrogant and spoiled like some of the noble ladies. When I saw her in my store, she was actually very sweet and polite. But enough about that. Tell me about you! How have you been? How are your sons?”

Vivian smiles as the seamstress finishes her measure, telling her about her two sons. Lily’s elder brothers are very different from each other but equally wonderful in their mother’s eyes. The eldest is calm and steady, while the younger son is lively and outgoing. The two women continue talking for a while, passing the time with pleasant conversation and catching up on the latest gossip.

Tanya’s POV:

Ever since I discovered the collection of extraordinary fragrant potions created by the Monteneros, I’ve fantasized about recreating them. There is one in particular that is said to fight allergies, quickly relieving the symptoms of a reaction.

Using the equipment in the laboratory that Marco got me, I try to recreate the special perfume from memory. Unfortunately, I think the formula calls for an extract of butterbur flower, which is rare in these parts of the kingdom. I don’t have any of it in stock in the little perfumery in the attic, so instead, I use a combination of ginger root and apple blossom to replicate the scent.

Hours begin to pass as I extract and distill the oils of various plants, and I add licorice root and stinging nettle to try and match the aroma in my memory. Much to my dismay, I can’t get the final step right. I try to mix the solution, adding the ethanol to the oils and extracts, but the liquids don’t blend right. Each attempt ends in a pungent, oily black mess as the substance boils and burns in all the wrong ways. Every failure is more discouraging than the last.

At one point, the bubbling beaker overheats as I try to distill the mixture yet again, causing it to break. A startled yelp escapes me as the glass bursts, sending small shards flying. I struggle to clean up, feeling utterly defeated.

Perhaps I made was wrong. I was convinced that I could replicate the perfume from the special collection or at least create something similar, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t get it right.

One of the glass shards from the explosion cut my palm, and I wince at the stinging pain. With a sigh, I start to clean up a bit, pushing past the crushing disappointment. I’m determined to try just one more time.

Once again, I extract the oils from the selected plants and add the solvent. When I carefully bring the fluids to a boil, I can’t help but panic slightly at the sight of little black bubbles appearing. I rush to stir the elixir, desperate to prevent the chemicals from reacting badly again.

In my haste, a drop of blood slips from the wound on my hand, spilling into the boiling liquid. Frustrated, I remove the beaker from the flame, ready to give up. But then, much to my surprise, the black bubbles dissipate, and the mixture settles, revealing a golden honey-colored elixir. I gasp in delight as the scent of sweet spices fills the air.

Due to the missing ingredient I had to replace, the effects might be slightly weaker, and the smell is somewhat different from the one in the showroom. But I did it! I created an extraordinary perfume! I stare in amazement at the wonderful little healing potion, quickly pouring it into a tiny bottle and savoring the elegant and earthy smell.

I can’t help but wonder what finally stabilized the fluids, and my eyes widen in shock as I look at my hand, my gaze fixed on the small, scarlet trickle of blood.

Marco and I enter the banquet hall arm in arm for the Autumn Equinox Banquet. The gown he’s gotten me for the occasion is not yellow or orange like the leaves of the season, but rather a rich metallic gold the color of sunlight. The silky fabric is so magnificent that it needs no gaudy ruffles, no bows, or frilly accessories to accentuate its beauty. Its simplicity is elegant and regal, with short, swooping sleeves that droop off my shoulders. The silky fabric hangs around my curves to accentuate my figure, flowing with my movements as we walk through the banquet hall. It matches the delicate chain of my ruby necklace and the golden wedding ring I’ve become so accustomed to wearing.

Marco’s eyes trail over my silhouette approvingly, and I feel my cheeks flush under his brazen gaze. Before I can thank him for the dress, he excuses himself with a polite nod, explaining that he needs to go speak to some of the other guests.

A few minutes pass before Marco’s sister spots me, and she approaches me like a vulture descending on its prey. Her own dress is short and black, and I flinch at the rage in her eyes as she realizes that it pales in comparison to mine.

“Well, look who it is,” she says mockingly. “How ironic is this? The gold dragger is dressed in gold!” o

I bow my head slightly, remembering my place, and Cathy takes a long sip from the c*oc*ktail in her hand before speaking again.

“I suppose it makes sense that my brother’s little trophy wife would look like a shiny statue. He never should have married you; we all know you don’t deserve him.” She coughs slightly, taking another gulp from her drink. “Ahem,” she clears her throat. “I don’t know why he even brought you here tonight, nobody wants-”

She stops mid-sentence, unable to finish. Whatever insult she was going to throw at me fades from her lips as her expression contorts in pain. I gasp in horror as the princess staggers backward and collapses on the ground, unconscious at my feet.