Page 100 of May: Bloom & Bane

My chest aches for him. I take a step closer, and my boot catches on an upturned root.

Thwack.

The wet wood echoes off the water, and he flinches. In a blur of silver light and heavy muscle, he scrambles backward. His arms come up to bar my path. His chin tucks into his chest, his long hair spilling over his face like a curtain of black silk.

“No, please,” he rasps. “Don’t—Don’t look.”

“I can help you.” I hold out my palm, offering the lavender-veined flower. “I gathered these healing herbs for my mate, but you can have them. I can go pick more.”

He crawls backward, his massive body dragging through the soggy peat as he heads for the meadow’s edge.

“Please,” he whispers. “Just go back and pretend you didn’t see me. I’ll leave the second the sun goes down.”

“You’re hurt. At least take the healing flowers,” I say gently.

“I’m not,” he protests, until his posture stiffens. His chin lifts just enough for a smirk to peek through his dark strands. “Yes, we are. Obviously. Look at the leg, D. It’s hanging by a literal prayer.”

Before I can process the change, his head ducks again, his tone shifting into something softer.

“Don’t be rude, soldat. You’re scaring her. Can you not hear her heart racing?”

What is happening right now?

I take a step back. His head tilts like he’s studying the sound. I pause, the air between us feels crowded.

“Who’s soldat?” I breathe.

A wet noise escapes him, and I honestly can’t tell if it’s a laugh or a sob.

“What a good question, mademoiselle,” he murmurs. “And one that doesn’t have a simple answer.”

“You’re—is there more of you… that I can’t see?”

“There are three of us in this skin,” the sharper voice grates out. He glances down to his left, where the silver thread is snapping under the tension of his movement. “And right now, none of us can agree.”

“I understand, probably more than you realize.”

“I very highly doubt it.”

“My mates, Sage and Ashán, share a body.”

“Do you look at them?” His head lifts just barely, his hair parting enough to see one milky eye.

“Of course. I would do nothing all day besides look at them, if it were possible. I love them.”

“Both of them?”

“One of them would not be my mate without the other.”

“I’m sure your mates don’t look like a cadaver.”

His words break my heart. The healing bloom in my hand is practically vibrating against my palm.

“I’m sure she misses you terribly,” I whisper, my voice a soft lie to calm the three-headed storm inside him. “I’m just going to patch you up so you can get home to her.”

My fingertips graze a single piece of his hair, and he lets out a horrified scream.

“Don’t touch us!” he chokes out as he collapses into the dark water of the marsh. Within seconds, he’s gone. The only proof he was ever here is the lingering scent of caramel apple and a single, glowing thread lying in the mud at my feet.