31Remember Milan?The metallic odor of blood mixed with scents of sweet nuts, hot spice, and citrus, rose up to Soren in a wave of warmth and familiarity—Tazia. She hadn’t yet lost the habit of using the African skin oil she’d smoothed on when she was a vampire to heal the scars the sun carved into her body.
He loved that smell. He’d even used the oil himself at times when he’d wanted to feel close to her, slipping a little through his hair so the sun warmed it, and wrapped him in her scent. Now it was all around him, mixing with the evening air that flowed into the open-topped vehicle, hot and heavy. It heated the skin on his face and healed the anxiety in his soul. Thank God, the Abbot hasn’t got her yet.
“Anass… sta… ss?” Soren tried to form her name, but it slipped from his reach. His
