Page 58 of Inked in Bloom
“No one is pushing you to go. Most Blooms take many seasons to feel ready.”
“I’m ready,” I huff.I’m really not, but I have to be.“Fine,” I huff. “Tell me what to do.”
The ball of his throat works, flowers undulating all the way to where his trimmed beard frames the angle of his jaw. I nibble my bottom lip.
He’s hideous. You aren’t even a little bit attracted to him.
If I say it enough times, maybe I’ll eventually believe it.
“Would you be up for being walked through a few troubleshooting techniques?”
I nod.
“Look at your reflection.”
I do as he asks, taking in the two long gray ears patched with white, one flopping over at an angle. I wonder if that’s what my whole body’s like in my other form.
Briar stands behind me, a towering oak covering me in his shade. “Now ground yourself and close your eyes.” I spread out my toes in the dirt. “Picture your ears folding back into your hair, rolling in inch by inch by inch.” The low, dulcet way he says the last sentence makes me shift on my heels, and I have to swallow down the images it brings to mind.
“Ground yourself,” he reminds me, as if he can tell I’ve gotten distracted. I do as he says, pressing the balls of my feet into the dirt.
Scrunching my nose up, I wriggle.
And wriggle.
And wriggle.
“I’m never going to get this.” I groan.
“Just—”
“I know you’re trying to help me, but it is what it is.” I pat the top of my head between my ears. “This is how I look now.”
“Think of them as fluffy accessories.” He almost chuckles, but my glare makes him clamp his lips shut.
I sigh. “I’ll just be rocking bunny ears and a puff ball above my ass for the foreseeable future.”
“I mean, a puff ball sounds fun to play with,” Briar says with a smirk.
I swat his shoulder. Is he…flirtingwith me? My tailperks up at that, lifting the hem of my skirt. I slide my hands down to smooth it and shake my head. I can’t entertain this. He’s with Corrigan and I want out of Florezca.
“What if I told you I had a foolproof way to get your appearance back to normal?”
“I’m in.” There’s no hesitation in my voice. I need every tool I can get.
He lifts his hands up in the reflection, gesturing toward my ears. “May I?”
My brows furrow, but I nod. He trails a finger from the tip of my ear down toward my scalp. It feelsincredible. My shoulders go slack, and when he reaches the base of my ear and begins rubbing back and forth, scratching the spot, the ball of my footthump,thump,thumpsagainst the dirt.
I shift to lean into his touch, but then the ears disappear and the cottontail zips beneath my tailbone. “Wow. That was?—”
I blink wildly.
“Yeah, ear scratches are the best.”
I picture a chestnut bunny in my lap, stroking that very same spot and savoring every satisfiedthumpof his paw. The corner of my mouth lifts.
“Surefire way to relax when you’re having a block.”
