Page 175 of May: Bloom & Bane

Lucifer’s brow furrows, clearly caught off guard by the offer. “We don’t expect sanctuary. That’s not why we helped you.”

“Damien protected my mate,” Sage rasps, stepping closer to the island. “I’ll admit, the last few days haven’t been easy for me, and I reacted… hastily last night. Eden’s scent change has made me very territorial. But there’s no one I know who is more deserving than him.”

Lucifer takes a shaky breath. “Thank you, truly.”

“Nook will show you where to go—and I suspect you’ll have an escort.” Sage nods at Droot, who has already stationed himself at the kitchen doorway, glowing the officious lilac of a creature with a job.

With a quiet shift of his shoulders, Lucifer begins to recede, and the heaviness of Damien’s despair returns.

“We’re going into the greenhouse for a while. If you need supplies for your wounds, just ask, and Nook will provide those also.”

Sage grabs my hand and leads me out of the kitchen.

“Oh, and Damien,” he calls without looking back. “I like your stitches.”

CHAPTER 49

penelope

—SAGE

The greenhouse door closes softly behind us. The meadow’s magic rushes to meet us in a wave of heat that smells of rich loam and blooming jasmine.

Eden takes a deep breath, and the pallor that’s been clinging to her skin since this morning begins to pinken. Tension lifts from her body as if the plants are pulling it right out of her.

My hand finds her stomach. The tiny pulse beneath her skin is stronger here, hungrier, drinking in the vel’thurá like a parched leaf drinks the rain.

Our daughter needs this—the soil beneath our feet, the vines curling overhead, the hum of growth that lives in my blood. She’s reaching for it through Eden, pulling her mamé toward the source of my magic. Without it, she starves, and so does Eden.

I slide my arm behind her knees and scoop her into my arms, carrying her past the towering ferns and the broad-leafed elephant ears bowing under their own weight. I set her down on the moss-cushioned bench beneath the canopy of flowering vines. “Sage,” she whispers, her voice muffled against my chest. “I feel so… at ease here.”

“Good, luváel. I think we should stay in here today and let the baby drink as much as she needs.”

Her fingers trace over my chest. “Do you want to talk about the mark Damon gave you?”

I cover her hand with my own, pressing her palm firmly over the invisible mark.

“I thought he meant right now,” I murmur. “Me and Ashán haven’t always seen eye-to-eye. I thought this mark was to remind us of what we are and what we share.”

I look down at my long fingers overlapping hers. “But after listening to Lucifer, I don’t think that’s what it’s for at all.”

“Damien said the gods were restricted. Which means we’re kind of on our own right now, but I promise I won’t leave your side while we face whatever it is.”

She leans her forehead against my chin, and my wings close around her. We sit in the quiet warmth of each other, listening to the rustling plants as I trace her belly.

My ears twitch as a chittering noise echoes from outside the greenhouse.

“Penelope! Get back here!” A woman shrieks. “You tiny little demon!”

Eden and I stare at each other for a solid five seconds, utterly paralyzed by the absurdity of what we’ve just heard.

Eden peers out the window.

“Sage, there is a blonde woman running through our backyard… and she’s chasing a chunky raccoon.”

I slide Eden off my lap, and grab her hand as we stride out of the greenhouse and head toward the side porch. The moment she sees us, the woman loses her footing, stumbles over a root, and tumbles gracefully into a patch of clover. The raccoon stops a few feet away, climbing onto a boulder before hissing at her like a tiny, triumphant gargoyle.

“We should help her,” Eden whispers, suppressing a giggle.