Page 50 of May: Bloom & Bane

She cries out. “A-almost.”

A single dahlia petal lands on her breast. I reach up with my free hand and smear it across her nipple, leaving a streak of black juice and my own scent. She shudders, eyes half-lidded, mouth open on a silent moan.

“Come for me, ílyara,” I rasp, my fist flying now, kná swelling so full the petals strain. “Let me watch the meadow’s first gift to me.”

Her thighs clamp around the ridge of my wing, her spine bows, and she cries out both our names into the night sky. Her valúsha floods over my bone, and I feel every pulse of her pleasure ringing through my wing like it’s my own.

The sight of her—head thrown back, covered in moonlight and black petals, coming apart on the monster she chose—sends me over the edge of a cliff I didn’t know I was standing on.

“Eden—” It’s the only warning I manage.

My first release tears through me like spring through frozen ground. Gold erupts over my fist, my stomach, glowing lavásia spilling in thick pulses while the vines around my vék flare bright enough to light the whole clearing. My wings seize. Every flower in the meadow blooms at once, an entire season detonating in a single heartbeat. Somewhere beneath my ribs, the one who was named tonight groans like he felt every second of it.

We did that, he slurs, drunk on her. Look at her. We did that.

She slides bonelessly off my wing and pours herself over my chest, careless to the gold mess between us, her heartbeat hammering against my leaves. I wrap her in everything I have—arms, wings, vines rising to blanket her cooling skin. I press a kiss to her hair while the fireflies drift slowly back down around us.

“So,” she mumbles into my chest. “What’s the word for that?”

A laugh bubbles out of me. “There isn’t one yet.” I tip her chin up, taking in her swollen lips, cinnamon freckles, and the black petal still clinging to her breast. “You keep making me reach for new ones.”

CHAPTER 18

sous-chef

—EDEN

The light in the bedroom is blinding. The curtains do little to filter the golden rays shining through the windows.

Sage is sprawled on his stomach beside me, one wing draped over my legs like a silken quilt. He looks so… peaceful. His exposed bones have softened back into the color of moss, shimmering where the sun hits his shoulder.

“Too bright,” he mumbles into the pillow. He pulls me closer, tucking me snugly against his side. “Stay, mí’vashé.”

The house groans, a deep wooden sound that starts in the floorboards and travels up the walls. The window frame begins to shrink, choking out the morning glare. In just a few moments, the blinding morning light is replaced by total darkness.

Sage doesn’t open his eyes, but the muscles around his wings twitch, and the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“Eden, I think the house might be in love with me,” he chuckles, his voice thick with sleep.

I can’t stop the giggle from escaping me.

“You go grim reaper one night, and all of a sudden everyone’s in love with you, huh?” I murmur.

“Not everyone,” he rasps. “Just you.”

“I would sound crazy if I told anyone that I loved a man I’ve known for less than three days.”

“I don’t think time works the same for you and me, Saevúra,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up my side to cup the back of my neck. “It certainly doesn’t work the same way in my chest.”

His eyes finally crack open, lavender and gold, staring back at me.

“I don’t remember the past, Eden. But I know that if I have a future, I want to spend it with you.” He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

“It’s been more than three days when I think about it,” I say. “I heard your voice every day for over a year. And though I’ve only known your face for a few days… I think I fell in love with you long before I opened my eyes.”

His wing brushes over my legs, drawing me in tighter.

“Say that again.”