Perry leaned back on his good arm and stole a look at her. Her body belonged in tight clothes, not in camos. He felt guilty looking, but he couldn’t help it. “Yeah? What are they?”

“First, tell me what your temper is like right now.”

He covered his surprised gasp with a cough. “My temper?” No way this was a good idea. He searched for a gentle way to say no. “I could try,” he said after a moment, and then pushed a hand through his hair, shocked at what he’d just agreed to do.

“All right. . . .” He fiddled with the edge of his cast. “Scents, the way I get them, are more than smells. They have weights and temperatures sometimes. Colors, too. I don’t think it’s like that for others. My bloodline on my father’s side is strong. Probably the strongest line of Scires.” He stopped himself, not wanting to sound boastful. He realized his thighs were flexed tight. “So, my temper right now is probably cool. And heavy. That’s what sorrow is like. Dark and thick, like stone. Like the scent coming off a wet rock.”

He glanced at her. She didn’t look like she wanted to laugh so he kept going. “There’d be more. Most of the time, a lot of times . . . there are a few scents in a temper. Nervous tempers are sharp scents. Like laurel leaves? Something bright and tingling like that? Nervous tempers are hard to ignore. So there’d be some of that probably.”

“Why are you nervous?”

Perry smiled down at his cast. “That question makes me nervous.” He made himself look at her. Looking at her wasn’t working either, so he pinned his gaze on the lamp. “I can’t do this, Aria.”

“Now you have an idea how it feels. How exposed I feel around you.”

Perry laughed. “That was tricky of you. You want to know what I’m nervous about now? That you have a second condition.”

“It’s not a condition. It’s more of a request.”

Every part of him was locked tight, waiting for what she’d say next.

Aria pulled the covers over her, hugging them close. “Will you stay? I think I’d sleep better if you stayed here tonight. Then we could miss them together.”

His impulse was to agree. She was beautiful sitting against the headboard, her skin looking smoother, softer than the sheets pulled up around her. But Perry hesitated.

Sleeping was the most dangerous thing a Scire could do with another person. Tempers mixed in the harmony of sleep. They tangled up, forming their own bonds. Scires became rendered that way, as had happened with him and Talon.