Page 1 of Inked in Bloom
PROLOGUE
Fate’s kiss follows tragedy. It always has. Every soul she claims comes at great cost, with mortals left behind and forced to carry on.
Somehow.
She tries not to dwell on that. Despite granting immortality to these souls lost to time, it never gets easier.
These visits in particular are the hardest.
Her lips quiver against a tiny blue temple, surrounded by the acrid scent of antiseptic and the sobs of grieving parents. The mother cradles an empty muslin blanket to her chest, the gauzy white stamped with pale blue and storm-cloud gray. Fate memorizes the letters.
You’ll take that with you, little one.
The father clutches the metal arm of the bed, his knuckles white. He watches the nurse carry the tiny, unmoving bundle out of the room, not tearing his gaze away from the doorway long after she’s left.
Death is unavoidable. Not even Fate can thwart it. But this is one thing she can do, one way to right the unfairness of Time. It’s another chance.
An eternity of magic.
Fate nuzzles the fragile form nestled in her arms, leaving the hospital room behind as she slips through the silkenveil. Above her, strands of leaves, icicles, flowers, and broken shells wave on the breeze along the ceiling of her den. Her lips purse and she stares at the tiny sage-hued babe, stroking the newly purple tuft atop his head. His mouth opens on a yawn and his lashes flutter, revealing a pair of radiant lavender irises.
Faint footsteps echo from the tunnel on her left.
Fate smiles down at the infant. Turning and gliding across the floor, she savors the excitement budding in the couple’s stare the moment they notice the squirming babe cradled in her arms.
“He’s beautiful,” Davis says and loops an arm around his mate, nuzzling her lilac cheek. The rims of his evergreen eyes shimmer, nerves fluttering beneath his reassuring exterior. He swallows hard. “Is he?—”
The question halts on his tongue, a wish that’s gone unanswered for the pair since they became two of the Blooms newest leaders five years prior.
Fate nods at the bundle and lifts him toward the couple. “Yes, he is.”
Claire’s arms are outstretched before she finishes speaking. Clutching the child to her chest, she supports his neck and rocks him gently. Her mate traces over the babe’s pale-green palm, the corner of his mouth kicking up when a tiny fist grasps his finger. Those sweet lavender eyes lock on his inked vine flourish marks with rose-gold highlights on the leaves.
The heaviness cradled between Fate’s ribs ebbs, the tragic start of her day now kissed by hope.
ByFate.
Realization and joy radiate off the couple, and she commits the feeling to memory. It’s so seldom she gets to.
Fate returns their smiles. “Meet your new sprout, Briar Bloom.”
JULY – 50 YEARS LATER
1
MONROE
“Unfortunately, that’s the end of our session, Vella.”
Setting my pen andnotepad down on the end table, I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose. I drag my attention from the ticking clock to my client lying across the leather couch in my office.
“Already?” Vella frowns, still tapping her stiletto against the material.
She hasn’t stopped since she sat down forty-five minutes ago.
“Goes by quickly, doesn’t it?” I offer her a smile, stifling the urge to wince with eachtap-tap-tapof that pointy heel. One of these sessions, she’s going to snag it on the leather and put a hole in my couch. My nails dig into my legs as I stand. “Do you remember what you’ll be working on before our session next week?”
“Writing a letter to my sister.”
