Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan

Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan By Kellie Brown

Chapter 37 Perfume Compet*ition

Tanya’s POV:

The pipette between my fingers quivers uncontrollably as my arm freezes in the midst of adding oil drops. My thoughts draw back to before the start of the first round, I remember that one of the staff members came up to me, saying that I had two hours to complete my perfume. Hence, I chose to craft a fragrance that required more time to blend and combine, and that fit nicely within the two-hour mark.

Course I now realize that either she was mistaken, or the person had deliberately lied, for in fact I only had one hour. Some inner sense within me considers it was the latter a*s*sumption, which was highly strange, for I hadn’t even known the staff member, so why would she deliberately sabotage my chances?

Title of the document

None of that matters now however, the bell sounds like a ma*s*sive gong in my mind as I realize I only have fifteen minutes left to finish my perfume fragrance. And I can’t proceed with the original one because I certainly won’t be able to finish it in time. My thoughts begin to spiral with considerable doubt.

My weeks upon weeks of preparation, the hours spent crafting and identifying best methods and specific fragrances in my laboratory all gone to waste as I’m left cheated. A sense of disaster overwhelms me at the thought of losing in the first round, when I have put my entire heart and soul into this compet*ition.

It’s with this in mind that I suddenly reestablish the reason I’m here. Not for the fame, or the glory, but to save the Blue Moon Tree. It’s so important to me and Marco, a place that somehow connects us, and forever remains a prominent reminder of my future child. But most of all, it’s the essence of the Blue Moon Pack, and I know I have an obligation to them to save it.

skim over my notes and establish quickly what I have to work with and where I

other oils, deciding that I want to create something summery with hints of childish nostalgia, like afternoons on vast farmlands with

combination with sandalwood to embody my idea. With lOmins to spare, I add the ethanol and swirl my

at the right moment. I’ve got less than five minutes, and while my heart patters erratically, I keep my hands steady. I take the flask off the flame and give it a final swirl and sniff. I smile, highly pleased with the final product. I pour the smooth liquid into a

I elaborate the interaction with the staff member who faulted me. Because of this, she’s punished and dismissed. Although, I’m still slightly uneasy

in a blur as I complete and positively progress through the rounds. In no time I’ve successfully entered the final round. There are only two finalists, Lily, and me. There are no restrictions on the ingredients or utensils permitted in this final round. And we are required to create a perfume related to

daily time limit. And at first, everything goes splendidly. I have no trouble coming

main ingredient to base my perfume on, and it feels only right to have my notes, formulas and calculations written down in the black journal Marco gifted me for Valentine’s Day. It’s almost as if a piece of

very conscious of my time restraints and maintaining a good pace. But I still take my time ensuring the perfection of each additional oil that I add to the mixture, annotating each step as I go to have a well-written

faith in me and believe that I can win. I recognize

compet*ition, and I’m not surprised when nearly everyone is betting on Lily. It does make sense, her reputation far proceeds mine, and I understand that no one would want to risk their money on someone like me who

notice Marco’s reaction to everyone betting on Lily, portraying nothing but an eyebrow raise as he watches them chose Lily over me. But to my surprise, in front of everyone, he suddenly walks over to the booth and openly bets on me

allowed to bring our own utensils for our creations, and I excitedly unveil the leather tool kit cover that protects them. But when I reveal my perfumery instruments, my expression

use to separate the solutions in my mixture. This particular one is immeasurably precious to me, made out of a special type of glass that makes