POV: Elias
The smell comes before the image.
It's not as brutal as last night, according to reports, but it's still there: sweet heat, skin on alert, electricity in the air. Young heat. First time. Mixed with Noir's harsh trail.
The room is small. Oval table, four chairs. Herrera with her tablet. Dante on the wall, arms crossed. Guardian. Wolf.
And her, Aurora Vega, by the door, as if still deciding whether to enter or flee.
"Miss Vega," I say. "We finally meet officially."
I saw her earlier, in the elevator. Then she smelled of coffee and paper. Today, that and hormonal revolution.
She recognizes me. Good.
"Director Valcourt," she replies. "I thought you would remain just a name in my emails."
She doesn't shrink back. I like that.
"Please, have a seat," I say.
She chooses the chair closest to the doctor, not to Dante or me. A useful detail. Dante stands behind her, slightly to one side. Guard duty, not equal footing.
