"He touched you," Caleb said, a statement of fact. He reached up, his hand hovering near her cheek, afraid to touch her. "I can smell him on you. I can smell his death and his rot."
Elena grabbed his hand and pressed it against her face. "Wash it away."
Caleb’s eyes darkened. "Elena..."
"Please," she begged. She didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to analyze the trauma or the near-death experience. She wanted to feel alive. She wanted to erase the memory of Silas’s cold hands with the fire of Caleb’s touch.
She looked around the dim corridor. They were still in the crypt, but in a shadowed alcove away from the main chamber. It was dark, private, and dangerous.
Elena sank to her knees on the cold stone floor.
"What are you doing?" Caleb breathed, staring down at her.
"Let m
