Page 33 of May: Bloom & Bane

“Coming, Sage?”

The morning glories release me, and I follow her home like the sun follows the horizon—helplessly, with absolutely no memory of ever having done anything else.

“Here,” I murmur, reaching for the laces at the back of her dress. “Let me help you. You’re covered in mud.”

The moment my fingers start working the ties loose, her breath hitches.

The fabric is cold and damp. I try to focus, but my hands are trembling.

“Sage? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

It feels like lava is flowing through my body.

The dress falls to the floor, pooling around her feet. She’s left in nothing but a thin cotton slip that clings desperately to her curves.

The firelight turns the fabric nearly see-through.

Look away. Now. Give her privacy.

But I can’t take my eyes off of her.

The air around us grows thick. Something sweet and intoxicating coats my tongue, like nectar left to ripen in the sun.

I realize, with dawning horror, that it’s me. I’m the one flooding the room with this scent.

Honeysuckles bloom across the walls, their vines pulsing as they push me closer to her.

“Sage?”

My wings snap wide.

Lavender curls around my wrists while shimmering gold pollen begins flooding the room. The moment she breathes it in, her head falls backward, wild curls cascading behind her.

The lavender at my wrists pulses, and I find myself moving toward her with no way to stop.

“I can feel you,” she whispers, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Something is different.”

“I have always been able to feel you, ílyara.”

“My skin feels tingly,” she murmurs.

“So does mine.”

“What does ílyara mean?”

“My Sun.” I reach out, my fingers tracing the line of her collarbone. The lavender throbs in time with her pulse. Every breath she takes pulls more of me into the air between us. Like my body is trying to feed hers.

“Eden,” I breathe, my hand sliding from her collarbone to the curve of her shoulder. The vines tighten, urging me closer. The whole house seems to want this moment as badly as I do.

I lower myself to her level and press my forehead to hers. Her fingers curl into the leaves at my shoulders.

“Why is the room covered in gold?”

“I think… my body is responding to yours.”

My nose traces the line of her jaw. The sweetness in the air deepens and the flowers at my wrist bloom wider, desperate to touch her.