"Alaric stood up, crowding Talasyn in the space that she refused to cede to him. She attempted to pull her hand out of his grip but he tightened it, nearly hard enough to bruise. He was so close that she could smell him, the sweat and smoke of battle mingling with the lingering balsamic spice of sandalwood water. It was a heady combination and, coupled with the wrath in his star-cut eyes, she felt as though she was drowning, would drown in him—but she held her ground, lifting her chin, baring her teeth." The Hurricane Wars (p. 77)
 
"As the sunlight grew hot against her head, she noted—as she had in that cell at the bamboo garrison, so long ago—that he smelled of sandalwood. There was a hint of cedar as well, and the peppery bite of juniper berry, warmed by a touch of sweet, resinous myrrh. He smelled like the alpine forests back on the Continent. What an odd thing for her to notice. What an odd thing for him to hold her like this." The Hurricane Wars (p. 224)