Books. Skin. Clean sheets. Something faintly sweet. Computer dust. That sharp little trace of wildflowers and trouble that had ruined all three of us before we had known we were dying.
Thane laid her on the bed.
On top of the covers.
Slowly.
Aiden was already beside her, fingers at her pulse again, eyes scanning her face, throat, chest, hands, every bruise, every cut, every place where the facility had left proof that it had touched what was ours.
I closed the door.
Locked it.
Then leaned my forehead against the wood for one second and breathed.
Bad idea.
The moment I stopped moving, everything tried to catch up.
No.
Not now.
I turned back.
Aiden looked at me once, and whatever he saw on my face made him roll his eyes.
“We need to clean her,” he said in a steady voice.
“We a
