Aria uncovered her ears, hope a passing flicker in her eyes. “They’re still here,” she whispered.
He eased back against the board, absorbing the quiet. The howl sent a sudden chill down his spine. He tensed, listening to a wail unlike anything he’d ever heard. Like being rendered, it pulled him into the deepest, heaviest feeling, trapping his breath in his throat. Other wolves joined in, creating a sound that raised the hair on his arms.
After a few minutes, the howls died off. Perry waited, hoping, but then the barking and scraping began again. The boards shifted beneath him as Aria stood and moved to the edge, the blanket sliding off her shoulders. Perry watched as she stared down at the wolves. Then she cupped her hands around her mouth and closed her eyes.
He thought it was another wolf howling. Even watching her, he couldn’t believe she’d made the sound. The barking below ceased. When she finished, her gaze darted to his for a moment. Then she let out an even richer, mournful sound, her singer’s voice carrying more power, more reach than any of the wolves below.
Quiet fell over them when she was done. Perry’s heart pounded.
He heard a soft whine and a wet sneeze. And then, after a moment, the patter of paws retreating into the night.
With the wolves gone, they sat and shared water. Perry’s fear was wearing off, leaving a heavy fatigue. He couldn’t stop looking at Aria. He couldn’t stop wondering.
“What did you say to them?” he finally asked.
“I have no idea. I just tried to copy their howls.”
Perry took a drink of water. “It’s a gift you have.”
“A gift?” She looked lost in thought for a while. “I never thought so before. But maybe it is.” She smiled. “We’re alike, Perry. My voice is called a falcon soprano.”
He grinned. “Birds of a feather.”
With their nerves settling, they ate a quick meal of cheese and dried fruits they’d packed from Marron’s. Then they wrapped themselves into their blankets and sat against the planks, listening to the wind stir the branches around them.
“Do you have a girl in your tribe?” Aria asked.
Perry peered at her, his pulse picking up. It was just about the last question he wanted to answer. “No one important,” he said carefully. That sounded terrible, but it was the truth.
“Why isn’t she important?”
“You know what I’m going to say. Don’t you?”
“Rose told me. But I want to hear it from you.”
“Mine is the rarest Sense. The most powerful. It’s even more important for us to keep our bloodline pure than it is for other Marked.” He rubbed his tired eyes and sighed. “Crossing Senses brings a curse. It brings misfortune.”
“A curse? That sounds archaic. Like something out of the Middle Ages.”
“It’s not,” he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.
She thought for a moment, her small chin jutting out. “What about you? You have two Senses. Was your mother a Scire?”
“No. Aria, I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Actually, I don’t either.”
They fell into silence. Perry wanted to reach for her. He wanted to feel like he had for the past day, with her hand in his. But her temper had become weighted, cool as the night.
Finally she spoke. “Perry, what would I scent now if I were a Scire?”
Perry closed his eyes. Describing their differences wouldn’t bring her any closer. But neither would refusing to answer. He inhaled and then he told her what his nose told him. “There are traces of the wolves. The scents of the tree carrying a winter tone.”
“The trees have a winter smell?” she asked.
“They do. Trees know first what the weather will do.”
He already regretted speaking. Aria bit her lip. “What else?” she said, but he scented how it hit her, all the things he knew that she didn’t.
“There’s resin and rust on the iron nails. I scent the remnants of a fire, probably months old, but the ash is different from yesterday, with Cinder. This is dry and has a taste like fine salt.”
“And yesterday?” she asked softly. “What did that ash smell like?”
He peered at her. “Blue. Empty.” She nodded like she understood, but she couldn’t. “Aria, this isn’t a good idea.”
“Please, Perry. I want to know what this is like for you.”
He cleared his throat against a sudden tightness. “This shack belonged to a family. I scent traces of a man and a woman. A stripling—”
“What’s a stripling?”
“A boy on the cusp of becoming a man. Like Cinder. They have a scent that can’t be ignored, if you get what I mean.”
She smiled. “Would that be your scent?”
He put his hand to his heart, pretending to be stricken. “That hurt.” Then he grinned. “No doubt, yes. To another Scire, my appetites must raise one skunk of a reek.”
She laughed, dropping her head to the side. Her black hair spilled over her shoulder. Just like that the night cold vanished.
“I would know all that if I were a Scire?” she asked.
“That and more.” Perry drew a shuddering breath. “You’d have a fair idea of what I want right now.”
“What would that be?”
“You nearer.”
“How near?”
He lifted the edge of his blanket.
She surprised him by folding her arms around his waist and embracing him. Perry looked down at the top of her dark head as she burrowed against his chest. Something heavy and cold at his core lightened. Hugging wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but maybe it was better. It shouldn’t surprise him, her knowing what he needed more than he did.
After a moment, she drew back. Tears pooled in her eyes. She was so close, her scent moving through him, filling him. He found his eyes pooling too.
“I know we only have this time, Perry. I know it’ll end.”
He kissed her then, parting her soft lips with his. She tasted perfect. Like fresh rain. He deepened their kiss, his hands finding her, bringing her closer. But then she drew away and smiled. Without a word, she kissed the bridge of his nose, then the corner of his lip, and then a spot on his chin. His heart stopped when she tugged his shirt up. He helped her, yanking it over his head. Her gaze ran over his chest and then her fingers trailed over his Markings. He couldn’t slow down his breathing.
“Perry. I want to see your back.”
Another surprise, but he nodded and turned away. Dropped his head forward and took the moment to try and calm his breath. He jerked when she traced the shape of the wings on his skin, a groan sliding out of him. Perry silently cursed himself. He couldn’t have sounded more Savage if he’d tried.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
He cleared his throat. “We get them when we turn fifteen. All Marked do. A band for your Sense and one for your name.”
“He’s magnificent. Like you,” she added softly.
That was what did it. He spun and caught her up, pulling her down onto the boards, possessing just enough of his wits to soften their fall with his arms.
Aria gave a startled laugh. “You didn’t like that?”
“I did. Too much.” With some quick shifting, he pulled a blanket beneath them, another one over. And then she was his. He kissed her and lost himself in the silk of her skin, and in her violet scent.
“Perry, if we . . . couldn’t I get . . . ?”
“No,” he said. “Not now. Your scent would be different.”
“It would? How?”
Questions. Of course with her. Even now. “Sweeter,” he said.
She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Aria,” he whispered, “we don’t have to do this if you’re not sure.”
“I trust you and I’m sure,” she said, and he knew it was true.
He kissed her slowly. Everything went slowly so he could follow her temper, and search into her eyes. When they joined, her scent was brave and strong and certain. Perry took it into himself, breathing her breath, feeling what she felt. He’d never known anything as right.
Chapter 37
ARIA
The next morning, Perry told her the wolves’ scents were faint. He didn’t think the pack was close, but they traveled with more care than ever, relaxing only when they had left that territory behind.
He was different with her. He spoke to her quietly as they walked. He answered every one of her questions, even things she didn’t ask, knowing she’d want to know them. He told her about the plants they passed. Which ones were edible or had medicinal uses. He showed her the animal tracks they came across and explained how to navigate by the shape of the hills.
Aria memorized every word he said and savored every smile he gave her. She found excuses to bring him close, pretending interest in this leaf or that rock. Nothing fascinated her more than him. When Perry told her it would take them six days to reach Bliss, she gave up on excuses. Six days was too long to wait for news of Lumina. It wasn’t long enough to be with him.
In the afternoon, they stopped to eat on a rocky outcrop. Perry brushed a kiss on her cheek while she was chewing, and she learned that it was the loveliest thing to be kissed for no reason, even while chewing food. It brightened the woods, and the never sky, and everything.
Aria embraced this tactic, calling it the Spontaneous Kiss, and soon learned how difficult Scires were to surprise. Whenever she tried the Spontaneous Kiss in return, Perry smiled with heavy-lidded eyes and opened his arms. She kissed him anyway, not caring, until it hit her that he’d someday choose a girl who was like him. A Scire who would also be immune to the Spontaneous Kiss. Aria wondered if they would know every emotion that ran through each other. She found it curious and frightening that she could deeply dislike someone she didn’t even know. It wasn’t her. At least, it wasn’t how she used to be.
That night Perry devised a hammock from their blankets and rope. Pressed together in a cocoon of warm fleece, his heart pounding solidly beneath her ear, she wished for what she’d always had in Reverie. A way to exist in two worlds at once.
The next day she spent hours thinking, turning her inquisitiveness inward. She liked what she was discovering about herself. Aria, who knew that birds should be plucked while they were still warm so the feathers came out more easily. Aria, who could start a fire with a knife and a piece of quartz. Aria, who sang wrapped in the arms of a blond-haired boy.
She didn’t know where this side of her would fit with what lay five days ahead. How would it be going back to the Pod? Knowing how utterly visceral and terrifying and euphoric these days had been, how would she return to simulated thrills? She didn’t know, but thinking of it worried her. As to her biggest question—what would happen when she reached Bliss—she did something new. She withheld her questions and fears and trusted that she’d know what to do when the time came.
“Perry?” she whispered late that night. His arms immediately tightened around her ribs and she knew she’d woken him.
“Hmm?”
