Page 141 of May: Bloom & Bane

She’s fine, Ashán echoes quietly in the back of my mind.

It’s the first thing he’s said since we landed and made our reluctant truce.

I know, I murmur.

But knowing doesn’t erase the terror, or undo the ten minutes I spent trying to wake her while her pulse grew fainter and fainter beneath my fingertips. Her pale face keeps flashing in my head.

I push the bedroom door open with my shoulder and lay her down as gently as I can. She doesn’t stir, exhausted and wrung out from hours of⁠—

I swallow hard and step back. She needs rest. I should leave her alone. But one look at her makes my chest ache. Lavásia and splotches of mud cling to her skin.

Clean her up, Ashán murmurs. She’ll be more comfortable.

When I get to the bathroom, Nook already has warm water running and a large wooden bowl on the counter. I add some chamomile, lavender, and arnica to the water to help with her soreness. I sit on the edge of the bed and start wiping over her shoulder. My pollen comes away easily, leaving clean, freckled skin behind. I work slowly over her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, down her arm.

She sighs my name under her breath, and that’s all it takes.

Easy, Ashán warns.

I’m fine, I snap.

But every inch of skin I reveal, and every soft exhale she makes…

My hand stills on her hip.

Sage

I said I’m fine.

I am not fine.

The rut only paused out of my worry for her. The low simmer in my blood starts to boil. I grit my teeth and keep cleaning. My hand moves from her stomach, along the curve of her waist, over the swell of her breast where pollen had settled.

Vresh. I have to stop.

My hand is shaking, and I’m achingly hard.

This is a bad idea, Ashán mutters.

You were literally the one who told me to clean her.

She’s clean enough, he grumbles. And you need to back away before you trigger a full rut.

He’s right. I know he’s right. But my body won’t cooperate.

I finish wiping the last traces of lavásia from her skin, pull the blanket over her, and force myself to stand. I make it three steps before I have to brace myself against the wall.

Maybe if I just lay with her, that’ll be enough.

Absolutely not. That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.

I take a step toward the bed.

Sage, Ashán growls. You need to deal with this.

I’m fine, I grit out, even though my legs are shaking and my vék is straining against the vines slithering around my pelvis.

You’re not fine, he says. Your rut didn’t end; it paused. And now that the adrenaline is wearing off and your body knows she’s safe…