I have never slow-danced before, but it’s not too difficult. Perhaps because my partner is doing most of the work.
“So.” I glance up, attempting conversation. In these shoes I push six feet, but there’s no towering over this man. “I smell like sewers or something?” It cannot be easy for him, being this close to me.
He stiffens. Then relaxes. I think he won’t reply until his terse “Or something.”
I wish I could commiserate, but Vampyres don’t comprehend scents the way other species do. Serena used to point at flowers and spin wild tales of beautiful fragrances, then act shocked that I couldn’t tell them apart. But plants are insignificant to us, and I was just as shocked that she had no awareness of people’s heartbeats. Of the blood coursing through her own veins.
It’s a pity that I sme
