Page 125 of May: Bloom & Bane

“Eden, I’m eight feet tall, and one of my thighs is bigger than your waist. If I didn’t want this… If I didn’t need this, I could stop it at any time.”

The truth of that settles between us.

She’s not taking my power. I’m giving it to her.

“Okay,” she says softly. She wraps the leash around her hand once, securing her grip. “But if this stops feeling right, you tell me. I’m doing this to help you, not hurt you.”

“You could hurt me, Saevúra, and I’d beg for more.” I press a kiss to her forehead and send all my need down the bond, hoping she feels the sincerity and trust I have for her.

She rises to her feet. Even on my knees, I still loom over her, so I ease back onto my heels, lowering myself for her.

Her free hand slides into my hair, fingers threading through the strands at my scalp. She applies gentle pressure, tipping my chin down until I’m looking into her eyes.

I go still beneath her touch.

“Sage,” she says breathlessly. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” I rasp.

“That’s it.” Her thumb strokes over my jawline. “Just relax into my touch. You don’t have to think about anything else right now.”

I exhale, feeling the tension bleed out of my shoulders. I focus on her hand in my hair, how warm and steady it is.

“Close your eyes, Vaelí,” she murmurs.

I do.

“Perfect.” Her thumb traces my cheekbone. “But I think you need one more thing.”

“What?” I whisper.

“A blindfold.” Her fingers tighten gently in my hair. “So you can shut out everything else and just focus on my voice.”

My throat works against the vine collar.

I reach up and pull a thin vine free from the collar. It’s soft as velvet and cool to the touch, winding its way upward until the broad, silken leaves settle over my eyes. As it weaves through my hair and ties itself at the back of my head, the world goes silent. The static of the meadow, the lingering hiss of Therael’s curse, and even the thrumming of my own wings all fade into the background.

There is only the sound of Eden’s heartbeat and the weight of her hands.

“There,” she whispers, the vibration of her words settling across my skin. “Now it’s just us. No ghosts. No gods. Just me.”

My world narrows to the smell of her skin, peony and honey.

Her fingers trace the line of my throat, just above the collar, where my pulse is jumping.

“I want you to focus on something for me,” she says. “Can you feel my heartbeat?”

She takes my hand and guides it to her chest, pressing my palm flat against her sternum.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

“Right here, Sage,” she whispers. “Do you feel it?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

“My heart beats for you.” Her hand covers mine, holding it in place. “And as long as you can feel it, you aren’t lost.”

The rhythm of her heart pulses against my palm.