“What do I smell like?” I asked. “You smell of…” He inhaled deeply as my lip curled. “You smell of death.” I stared at him from my pile of pillows, mouth hanging open. “That was rude.” Nyktos cleared his throat as he lowered his chin. “He may be speaking of me.” “I am,” the draken confirmed. I glanced at Nyktos and then realized what he meant. Warmth crept up my throat. “I did bathe—” “That will not wash away such a scent,” Nektas countered.
