Page 44 of Primal Mirror
First, Auden didn’t need to be thinking about him putting the moves on her when she was in the final trimester of her pregnancy. Second, he still didn’t know her motives or anything of who she was beyond being a pregnant psychometric.
Third—and most important—was her mental state and ability to consent.
His incipient arousal dying under the grim reminder of her personality shift and associated memory loss, he made sure to wipe off his boots on the mat outside the front door. It was obvious from the pristine shine of her wooden floor that she didn’t wear outdoor shoes inside, and he felt bad doing so even though she’d given him the go-ahead.
Despite her statement that she liked his imprint, he took extreme care not to touch any other surface as he made his way to the sink. It wasn’t hard to find—the place was all one bedroom, except for a closed-off area at the back that he assumed led to the toilet and shower.
Auden’s home was almost militantly basic. She had a simple futon—what the hell—with white sheets and a white comforter. A single wonky chair and a narrow dresser sat beside the futon. The kitchen table was small and round, and had no chair.
There were no rugs on the floor, no cushions for her to shove behind her back when it began to ache.
As for entertainment, he saw a small mobile comm and a single organizer.
That was it. Nothing in here spoke of the woman whom he’d taught to shoot, or who was currently making little noises of pleasure that he could hear even through the cabin walls. Too bad she was in no state to play—even his cat understood that. As it understood that he couldn’t allow her to keep avoiding the sobering subject.
Once back outside, he sat in his chair and waited until she’d taken a good long drink of the water before offering to hold the glass so she could finish her intense consumption of the cinnamon roll. He wished he’d brought more things for her now, wished he could sit her down and feed her delicious tidbit after delicious tidbit.
Only…this wasn’t a simple playful date between a man and a woman.
Gut tight, he let her enjoy herself, finding a profound and primal joy in having given her that. Only after she’d finished the roll, licked her fingers, and emptied the glass of water did he talk. Or more accurately—growled. “Why the fuck are you on a futon?” Not even a proper one with a low base. A literal mattress on the floor. “Isn’t it hard to get up and down?”
She nodded, her full lips turned down at the corners “Takes hours. Or that’s what it feels like. But furniture has imprints and the bed, so close to my sleeping brain…the noise is unbearable.”
Remi wanted to ask if she always slept on a futon, but that wasn’t important. “We have a small mech facility—you know that. But we can do larger pieces. What if we printed a frame for you?”
“People still would have to handle it.”
“I’ll do it. Only me.”
Auden stared at him, her motionlessness speaking of a creature wary and on edge. “Why?”
“Because you should not be sleeping on the floor!” He threw up his hands. “Will you try and see if it works?”
A slow nod.
Exhaling, he moved on to a far more problematic topic. “You know we have to talk about what happened this morning.”
Her spine grew stiff, her features a plastic caricature of Silence. “You know I have mental problems,” she said at last, her tone flat. “You saw that when you first met me.”
“This was more than that.” Remi could still taste the distasteful metallic layer to her scent even though it had vanished after she had her seizure. “You didn’t know who I was, and you smelled wrong.”
Frown marring her brow, cracking the plastic, she turned toward him. “What do you mean I smelled wrong?”
“Smells are powerful identifiers to changelings. I can recognize people from scent alone—it’s like an ID. Each one unique.” When he saw he had her full attention, he continued, “Your scent changed. It wasn’t perfume or body lotion or anything surface level. It was your base scent, the scent that is you no matter what else might layer itself on top. You had two. This one and another.”
* * *
• • •
AUDEN had no idea what Remi was talking about, and told him so. “I can’t think of any reason for a shift in my scent, but I’m not changeling. I don’t know what can alter a scent signature.” She worried at her lower lip with her teeth. “Could it be the baby?”
“No. Babies don’t develop their own scent until after birth. Until then, it’s the mother’s.” Remi rubbed his face, his hand scraping against the beard shadow that darkened his jaw.
“But I don’t know how Psy work well enough to guess why your scent might have changed.” Shifting so that he faced her, his body on a right angle to hers, the warmth of him a near-physical touch, he said, “Even if we leave that aside, you were a whole different person—and you didn’t remember any of our conversation afterward.”
Auden struggled to think back, only to come up against the same black wall she’d already faced so many times after these incidents. “No one’s ever reported a personality shift…but it’s possible they didn’t notice. I’m not this emotional at home.” The words had escaped her mouth before she realized what she was admitting.
“I get that,” Remi said. “I’ve heard that a lot of the older and more entrenched families prefer to continue on as if nothing’s changed.”