Page 162 of May: Bloom & Bane

A growl builds in my chest.

His milky eyes pop open, and he immediately raises his stitched hands in a clear sign of submission. His head ducks slightly to hide behind a mask of long hair.

“I am not a threat,” he rasps. “I am leaving.”

He struggles to move his injured leg.

My baser instincts don’t care about his words. They care about his size, and proximity to Eden. The scent of a rogue male who invaded the space where my fertile mate slept. The growl in my throat turns into a snarl as I begin to push myself up from the mattress.

“Sage, stop.”

No fighting, Droot chirps. The Patchwork Bird is Droot’s guest.

A soft hand presses against the center of my chest. The touch of her fingers is like cold water thrown over a fire. I keep my gaze locked on the silver giant, my wings twitching anxiously, ready to pin him to the wall if he makes a single sudden movement.

“Sage, this is Damien,” she murmurs, her voice laced with the soothing, empathetic weight that always manages to reach the center of my storm. She stands slowly, putting her small body directly between me and the couch, shielding the stranger from me. “He helped us, Sage. He carried you inside when you were lost in another vision.”

My jaw tenses. Damon’s charge, the one Therael told me about after I found his thread in Eden’s pocket. And Nook… Nook is completely at ease with him inside. If he were a true threat to her, Nook would have choked the life out of him before he crossed the threshold.

Logic tries to break through, but the Solvernah side of my brain won’t let it resonate.

Eden’s hand stays pressed to my chest, and I try to focus on the warmth of it.

Therael vouched for him. Nook let him in. He submitted. He’s leaving. Let. Him. Go.

I hate it. I hate that I can feel her fear through the bond, a thin thread of it beneath her calm that’s worried I’m going to hurt him. I hate even more that she has put herself between me and a wounded stranger, because some part of her knows I am the more dangerous animal in this room.

“Sage.” Her fingers ball into a fist, the back of her knuckles dragging over my sternum. “He’s not the enemy. I know your body is screaming. But he’s not.”

“I know.” The words force themselves out of me, my claws flexing at my sides. “I know, Eden. I’m trying.”

His submissive, huddled posture shifts. His chin lifts, his broad, mismatched shoulders squaring as his lips pull back into a smirk.

“We saved your sorry-winged ass. Show a little respect.” His voice is completely different.

He proudly flips the hair covering his face over his shoulder, staring straight at me, his eyes narrowing as he matches my hostility line for line.

My wings snap shut around Eden, hiding her entirely from his view, sealing her scent as much as I can.

I tilt my head, muscles coiling under my skin.

“You speak of respect in my home?”

The challenge only makes his smirk widen, his right fist resting casually on the cushion while his bad arm remains tightly pressed against his side.

“I have been in your home for hours,” he clips. “If we wanted to hurt anyone, we’d have done it by now. Unlike Damien, I don’t care if we piss you off; I’ve got nothing to lose but a couple of stitches.”

Another shift ripples through him. His smirk dissolves, shoulders sinking back into the cushions, and the sharp, daring light in his eyes dims into something gentler. When he speaks again, his voice is almost musical.

“Forgive him. Jack carries the worst of us, monsieur le jardinier.” He lifts his eyes to mine, but there’s no longer any challenge in them, only understanding. “You don’t need to explain yourself. I can smell her the same as you can.” His gaze flickers, just briefly, to where Eden is wrapped in my wings. “I may not know exactly what it means to your kind, but if Winnie smelled like that, we’d have reacted the same way.”

The knot in my chest loosens a single, grudging notch.

“I also know you not standing down has nothing to do with stubbornness,” he continues. “But because all of your primal impulses are telling you not to. So I’ll make it easy.” He shifts his weight as if to rise. “We won’t trouble your nest any longer.”

A soft grunt escapes him as his feet touch the ash-dusted floorboards.

My wings twitch, the membranes loosening just enough to let a sliver of light cut through the cocoon. Eden’s sorrow bleeds through the bond. He struggles, and the primal fury that had driven my blood to a boil is dying out, replaced by the hesitant respect of his understanding. Despite Jack’s venomous tongue, this creature carried me into sanctuary when my mind was broken.