“Do I smell the same?” I whispered. Fisher cradled the back of my head in his hand, supporting its weight as he pulled back and looked down at me. “Yes,” he said roughly. And then, in the same breath, “No. Before, you smelled like fresh crushed leaves and the mountain air before a cold snap. A subtle hint of spices and citrus, and fire smoke.” I stared at his mouth, watching him speak, mesmerized. “And… now?” “Now, those scents are amplified a thousandfold. You smell like excitement. You smell like laughter. And peace. And love.”
