Page 64
I stop him. “Let her.”
His eyes meet mine. “No.”
“She needs to understand.” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “No, she needs to leave.”
“She won’t.” I whisper.
Sage reaches down and brushes her fingertip over the tiny shoot. It grows beneath her touch. The stem stretches higher, fresh leaves unfurling as it curls toward her finger like its reaching for more.
“What the fuck?” She jerks her hand away, but the plant follows, bending toward her as if reluctant to lose contact. She scrambles to her feet so quickly she nearly loses her balance.
I catch her before she falls.
Again.
Only this time, she doesn’t pull away. Her hand clamps around my forearm as she stares at the impossible little plant below us, her fingers digging hard enough into my skin that I can feel each one. “What the fuck was that?”
“Malakai,” Ezra warns.
Sage looks up at me. “Tell me.”
I could lie. But I won’t. She needs to know.
“It knows you.”
Her fingers tighten. “What knows me?”
“The land.”
She stares. Then laughs once. Nervously. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Land doesn’t know people.”
“This one does.”
“Okay.” She pulls away. “Cool.” She takes two steps then turns back. “That’s fucking insane.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re saying it like it’s normal.”
“For me, it is.”
She stares at me.
The music pounds behind her. Bodies move. Fire rises. The red ribbon glows against her wrist.
“You really believe that.”
“Yes.”
She looks at Ezra.
He says nothing.
