You slowly creep into the den, your usual lavender scent now overpowered by a strong sandlwood scent. You just prey that your mate is asleep so that way you can get a shower, but to your surprise, he was standing in the door to the bathroom, arms crossed over his chest and an unpleasant look on his face, his cinnamon scent now invading your nostrils

Who is it?

He asks sternly, not in the mood for playing around. He wants to know the name of the male you slept with. Whether he kills the male or not would be a completely different story