Page 24 of Inked in Bloom
What in the fresh hell…
My hands clench my skirt, fingers digging so hard into the fabric I’m certain I’ll find bruises later. If I even bruise anymore. Maybe I don’t. I’m dead after all. Dead because I ran after the bunny staring up at me, an immortal who didn’t even need my help.
This has got to be somecruel joke.
“Ha!” I’m unable to contain the single laugh, though nothing about this is funny.
My cheeks flame and I take one shaky step backward. Then another, my footsteps whispering along the soil until I’m out of the room and pressed against the corridor lined with roses. Pricked by their thorns, I hiss and slump onto the dirt floor, twisting to inspect my skin. Red sprouts up from the sting, and I swipe it with my finger, staring at the droplet.
I still bleed. I still feel pain.
What the fuck kind of immortality is this?
Rocking onto my knees, I reach for one rose, then another, plucking them from the wall and tossing them to the ground. I want to rip them all away and pound at the wall without the cover of beauty. It’s too much. Too much hiding the truth beneath it.
I shouldn’t be here.
I should be home, helping my clients, my grief group, painting, chasing Jessica around the apartment—if she’s truly a bunny. How many of the seemingly innocent little beasts are actually immortals?
Maybe he never needed my help at all? Maybe I should have left him tangled with that fence? He would have been fine.
Not that I would have known from the little boy shouting for help, the crimson-smeared chestnut fur punctured by the metal prongs of the fence, or from shushing the scared bunny whose eyes were wide with fear as I got him free of the wiring. He’d passed out on the way to the emergency vet’s office, clutched in my arms with a tourniquet I’d made from the fabric of my skirt.
I blink and shake away the memory, staring at the blood on my finger. Trailing my attention where my shoulder waspricked by thorns. I watch it close up, the angry red spot slipping back into pink quartz skin. I ball my fists.
He could have healed right back up.
I’m such an idiot.
The thorns prod my exposed skin and I continue leaning against the rose-covered wall, welcoming the sting. I’m not sure what I expected in death, but this—something—makes me feel human, even if I’m not anymore. I savor the pain and pretend that I’m alive. Why not let the denial swallow me up, just for a moment, so I can drown in the echoes of everything I’ve lost?
I don’t notice Cherri come up until she’s crouched in front of me, a hand on my shoulder. “Monroe? Are you okay?”
“Yes.”Lies. “Just surprised…” After a few slow inhales, I’m calm enough to clarify. Brows furrowed, I blink a few times, replaying what I witnessed. “We turn into bunnies? Did you know that?”
“…I assumed you knew, but now I know how stupid that sounds. I am so sorry,” she says with a grimace. “Didn’t you wonder why there are so many bunny things around?”
“I thought they were cute décor for the spring aesthetic.” My mind flits around all the parts of Florezca I’ve seen so far. The fountain and bunnies hopping up the steps of City Hall?—
“Is everything alright?” Both our heads snap in the direction of the main entrance. The dean hurries toward us. Her eyes lock with Cherri behind me, and something in their silent exchange has the harsh lines of her face softening. “It’s perfectly normal to be a bit shocked and nervous during your first transformation lesson. But if this is all too much for you, we can defer your enrollment until the next session.”
“When is that?” I rasp.
“Six months from now.” She glances at Cherri, and I follow her focus to my new friend.
Cherri’s trained her expression into something unreadable, like she doesn’t want to influence my decision. But I already know what I’ll choose. Nothing anyone can do will sway me, not even learning that the bunny I brought back from the brink of supposed death is actually an immortal who’s my professor. My very attractive professor?—
Briar’s naked body hops into my mind, every inch of inked-sage skin. He could have warned me, but he didn’t. He didn’t say a thing.
What a jerk.
He’s the reason I’m here. The fact that he’s hot enrages me further. He’s lucky he’s already dead because I’m tempted to kill him.
Deep breaths, Monroe. Anger isn’t going to get you anywhere.
“I’m okay,” I lie and clear my throat, brushing dirt off my skirt as I stand. The dean cocks her head at me, her lips in a flat line. She’s not buying it. I swallow down my rage and force a smile across my lips. “It just startled me. As you said—first lesson and all.”
I lift my chin for emphasis.
