"No." He met her eyes, and there was something almost desperate in his gaze. "No, the grove doesn't create feelings from nothing. It only intensifies what exists. But I should have warned you. I should have—" His jaw tightened. "I brought you to a place that amplifies desire without telling you, and then I?—"
"You didn't do anything I didn't want."
"You might not have wanted it so much. So fast." He looked away. "I've always known about the grove. I understand what it does. You didn't. You were at its mercy, and I—" His voice cracked. "I took advantage of that."
"You didn't?—"
"I did." He was on his feet now, pacing the small clearing. The lanterns swayed overhead, agitated by some unfelt wind. "I told myself I was being patient. That I was giving you space and letting you come to me on your own terms. But then I brought you here, where the magic would do my work for me, and I?—"
"Thallos."
He stopped pacing and looked at her.
She rose to her feet, her legs still unsteady. She crossed the space between them slowly, giving him time to back away if he wanted. He didn't.
"Look at me," she said.
He did. His eyes were anguished.
"Did you plan this? When you suggested practicing here—did you plan for this to happen?"
"No." The word came out raw. "I swear I didn't. I just wanted… I thought if we were somewhere private, somewhere beautiful, maybe you'd relax. Maybe you'd stop being so afraid. But I didn't think about what the magic might do, and that's… that's inexcusable."
"But you stopped. Just now, when things were—" She felt heat rise to her cheeks. "You stopped. You pulled away."
"I felt it." He swallowed hard. "The magic, I mean. It was building. Getting stronger. And I realized what was happening, and I—I couldn't. Not like this. Not with you thinking it was just you, when it might have been something else."
The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. This wasn't a male making excuses. This was a male who'd been handed exactly what he wanted on a silver platter and given it back because the terms weren't right.
*He stopped,* she thought. *When he could have had everything, he stopped.*
Something shifted in her chest. A wall she'd spent years building developed its first real crack.
"I need to think," she said.
"Of course." He stepped back, giving her room. "I'll walk you home. Unless… If you'd rather go alone?—"
"Walk me home."
They left the grove in silence, the lanterns dimming behind them as if in farewell. The night air was cooler beyond the tree line,sharp against her flushed skin. She felt the absence of the grove's magic immediately—a subtle shift, like stepping out of a warm bath into air-conditioning.
But the wanting didn't fade.
That was the thing he didn't seem to understand. He thought the grove had manufactured her desire, amplified some small spark into a conflagration. What he didn't realize was that the spark had been there all along, growing every time he made her laugh or showed her unexpected kindness or looked at her like she was the only person in the world worth seeing.
The magic might have turned up the volume. But the song had already been playing.
They reached Bloom & Vine just before midnight, the shop dark and quiet, the vines above the door heavy with the flowers Thallos had coaxed into bloom their first night.
"Marigold." He stood at the bottom of the stairs that led to her apartment, his face half in shadow. "I'm sorry. For all of it."
"Don't be."
"But—"
"I'll call you." She climbed the first step, then paused. "Tomorrow. I need to think, but I'll call you."
He nodded, something fragile flickering behind his eyes. "I'll wait."
