Page 58 of Bloom in Darkness

“What? You offered.” Caelan grins, and I laugh hard enough that I nearly choke, and Bryn has to set the plate aside to hand me water. By the time I stop coughing, Caelan has reclaimed the abandoned cheese and Bryn is muttering something about both of us being impossible.

"At some point I actually have to go home," I say later, still stretched across Bryn like I have made absolutely no progress toward leaving.

Caelan turns another page. Bryn pulls the blanket higher over my legs, and neither of them argues with me.

I wake sometime later with the lamp off, the empty plate gone, and Bryn's arm heavy across my waist. My phone is still charging on their nightstand, and the jeans I meant to put on before leaving are folded over the chair.

Astra

By eight-thirty Wednesday night, I have already danced twice, worked the floor for almost three hours, turned down three private bookings, and my new shoes have rubbed both ankles raw. The shoes are technically beautiful. Black patent straps, narrow heel, enough height to make my legs look obscene even before I arch into a turn. Normally I would love them because I like slutty shoes, especially the way a good pair changes my posture and the line of my calves, but Sabine has somehow managed to make even that feel like punishment.

She left the box at my station before my shift with a note saying they were required for the new floor look. The price tag was still tucked under the tissue paper. Sabine never gives us anything for free, and I know better than to mistake the shoes for a gift.

I carry a tray of empties toward the service bar and try not to limp. The first set put a hot ache through both calves, and after two more hours weaving between tables in six-inch heels, every step pulls while drunk Alphas try to flag me down with money between their fingers.

A Beta near the end of one booth catches my wrist as I pass, his grip loose enough that I can slip free without making a scene even though my scent sours before I can stop it.

"You free later?" he asks, his hand still hovering near my wrist.

"No." I keep moving.

My phone buzzes against my thigh. I wait until I reach the service station to check it.

Silas: Heard you have been difficult this week.

The message has been sitting there for twelve minutes. Under it is one from Rourke that arrived while I was onstage.

Rourke: The Kings cannot keep buying you out of every obligation.

I lock the screen without answering either one and shove the phone back against my thigh. Sabine appears at the other end of the bar with a clipboard tucked under one arm.

"Lio, take Astra's next floor block. Astra, you're onstage in twenty."

Lio looks from me to the new shoes and back again. "He just came off the floor," Lio says.

Sabine does not look at him. "And now he is going onstage. That's generally how schedules work."

I set the tray down harder than necessary. "I had a break there yesterday."

She finally turns toward me without a hint that slamming the tray bothered her. "Yesterday you accepted your bookings. Tonight you've refused three. I had to move things around."

"You could move somebody else onto the set," I say.

"I could." Sabine glances at the new shoes. "But you're requested. Try to look grateful."

She walks away before I answer, and Lio waits until she is out of earshot. "You look wrecked."

I drag a hand over my face. "I feel wrecked." Lio picks up my tray and sets it farther back on the counter.

I want to tell him I am fine, but that would require lying with enthusiasm I do not have. I have barely seen Bryn and Caelan since Sunday, even though technically I have seen them every day. Monday I went to the Forge after my shift, ate half a sandwich in Caelan's office, and slept for two hours on the sofa while he worked and Bryn argued with somebody about training schedules. Tuesday I made it there after midnight, put my head in Bryn’s lap for what felt like five minutes, then woke in their bed just in time to shower, steal coffee, and leave for another shift.

By Wednesday, Bryn’s scent is gone from my shirt. I can barely catch Caelan’s when I pull the collar toward my nose, and underneath it I mostly smell like sweat, vanilla, and somebody who needs about twelve hours of sleep.

Bryn told me to call if I wanted him to scent me so I did not have to use more Bloom. My phone is already in my hand while I limp toward the dressing room. Bryn texted before my shift, so I know he is at the Forge, and Caelan is there too. They would come if I asked, which somehow makes it worse after spending most of the week showing up exhausted and letting them take care of me. Opening the jar feels easier than making the call. My calf spasms again, and I reach for it.

I step out of the heel and sit hard at my vanity with my teeth clenched. The skin around my ankles is red where the new straps have rubbed. My lower back has started its familiar deep ache, and the next set begins in seventeen minutes.

I open the jar, and the cream cools my fingers. I work a careful amount into both calves and along my lower back, then cap it before I can add more. Bryn's question from Sunday comes back while I sit there waiting for the warmth to spread.