Page 46 of May: Bloom & Bane

My hand slides from her face, trailing down the column of her throat, between her breasts.

Her hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me.

I freeze.

She changed her mind. Of course she did. How could someone like her want something like this?

She shakes her head. Her eyes drop to my other hand.

“Use your other hand,” she whispers.

I blink.

“What?”

“I want you to touch me with the hand that saved me,” she says.

No.

“Eden.” I pull back slightly, staring at the skeletal hand in question. “I can’t. The tips… I could hurt you.”

“You won’t,” she says simply.

“That’s not—I can’t just.” My voice cracks. “Please, ílyara. Don’t ask me to risk you like that.”

She sits up slightly, propping herself on an elbow.

“Then make them safe for me, Sage.”

I stare at her. Then at my hand.

Make them safe.

My gaze darts around the meadow and lands on a smooth river stone half-buried in the black dahlias.

I reach for it.

“What are you doing?” Understanding dawns across her face as I press the first tip against the stone.

The sound of my bones grating against the rock is the only thing I can hear over the frantic thrumming of my heart. I file down the first tip until the sharp point is blunt and smooth.

Then the second.

Then the third.

Eden watches silently as I dull each one. I test them against my own palm to make sure they’re safe.

I drop the stone.

“Better?” I rasp.

She reaches for my hand and guides it between her thighs.

“Perfect,” she whispers.

Vines coil around her ankles in response, spreading her for me. I watch, transfixed, as her wetness coats the pale bone of my fingers as I slide them over her swollen lips. I move slowly, learning the shape of her the way I learned the shape of the meadow. By devotion.

Her breath shudders. “Sage⁠—”