No matter how many green buds sprouted or how warm the spring became, the deep chill of the snow never really went away. That was how I felt when I looked at Elara. Especially now, when I was drunk on her scent. It was like a beautiful mountain that looked perfect from the outside, but the higher you walked into the snow, the more the cold made you feel small and uneasy.
Elara didn't pull away. Instead, she buried her nose against my ear and took a long, deep breath. Her warm exhale hit the skin of my neck, making goosebumps break out all over my body. I felt a sharp pull of tension travel all the way down to my toes, making them curl against her legs.
"You smell like wisteria flowers," she whispered.
I had never heard anyone describe my scent before. I tried to lean back so I could look into her eyes, but her hand was pressing firmly against the small of my back, keeping me pinned against her.
