Page 27 of Inked in Bloom
“Come on. You want to get out of your head for a night?” Cherri asks, cutting me off. “We’re in.”
She flashes me a big, bright smile. Guess that wasn’t a question, then.
With a final wave to our roommate, she loops her arm in mine, hurrying us back toward our cottage. Each knock of the teacups against my ribs punctuates my desire to stay in and paint in my jammies. But Cherri’s right, it would be good to get out of my head for a night. It’s got to be a better use of my time than staying in and dreading class tomorrow.
12
MONROE
Dozens of harbingers wander about The Warren, weaving in and out of storefronts and clubs, dressed in leathers, lace, and florals. We’re headed to The Looking Glass, a swanky club with a large mirrored door encased in rich burgundy and peach ranunculi. If it weren’t for the neon sign lit above it, it would be easy to pass by on the street and think it’s just a mirror.
“Password,” a grumbly voice filters through the wall.
“Witzend,” Roxy replies in her most saccharine voice, the one she reserves for her customers at Novel Nibbles.
The reflection ripples within the gilded frame. Roxy takes its handle and instead of turning it, uses it to steady herself and steps through the entrance. The mirror wobbles around her and reforms, appearing solid once more.
Cherri gestures for me to go next. I’m not sure what to expect, but the moment I grip the handle, I feel as if I’ve been tossed through a pool of translucent Jell-O.
Cherri lands beside me as I inspect my asymmetrical mini dress with black lace cutouts on the sides, tugging the longer end down and checking where the neckline clasps at the nape of my neck. Once I’ve ensured that everything is in place and dry, I shake off the strange sensation and follow Roxy down a windingcorridor lined with mirrors, light spilling between them and giving the space an eerie glow. Eventually, the hallway forks, and Roxy veers left.
“Where do the other two lead?” I ask, my voice echoing through the small space.
She glances over her shoulder but keeps striding ahead. “Middle goes to the powder rooms and right takes you to The Nestling Fields.”
“What are The Nestling Fields?”
Cherri smirks at Roxy, then turns to me. “It’s where Bloom claiming ceremonies take place.”
“What’s a claiming ceremony?” I ask, watching two Blooms make out against the corridor wall.
“It’s when mates publicly accept the bond set by Fate.” Roxy twirls her midnight-green hair over her collarbone.
“Is that when the flourish marks get those rose-gold accents?”
Roxy nods. “Exactly. Those come after they’ve bitten each other. It’s public and tends to get pretty wild with Blooms paired off or in groups.”
Cherri blows out a breath and fans herself.
“Guess they don’t call it fucking like rabbits for nothing.” I titter, ignoring the warmth spreading across my cheeks. They laugh along, and I flick my gaze away from the couple heading down the other corridor before curiosity latches its roots in me. “Is there a ceremony tonight?”
“No. Those only happen at the end of spring, twice a year. When The Nestling Fields aren’t in use, it’s a public place for intimate gatherings for Blooms…if you catch my drift.” Cherri adds that last bit with a smile so wide it’s clear she knows from experience.
“Caught it.” I swallow thickly. My throat is dry as sandpaper, has been most of the day. No matter how much waterI’ve drunk since I got home from Novel Nibbles, nothing quenches my thirst.
“Here we are!” Roxy says as the hallway opens out to a huge mirror-clad room.
The first place I head is the bar, grabbing three bulbs of fizzing green liquid and chugging them at the counter. Behind me, in the reflection, people dance to sultry instrumentals within glass cases that jut up from the ground. Each is filled with creeping vines, flowers, and a large lamp spilling golden light over them.
“They can be rented for the evening,” Cherri whispers, “though they usually book up before most Blooms are out for the night, so you have to get here early.”
I scan the room and land on a rectangular box where long mint-green legs tangle with leafy vines. The harbinger swings her hips hypnotically to the rhythm, lost in the music. Dressed in a bubblegum-pink romper that matches her lopsided bob, it takes me a moment to recognize her.
“Skylar?”
Cherri grabs my hand and drags me over there. Reaching up, she taps on the glass.
Skylar startles a moment, squints, and bends down. Recollection brightens her expression and she reaches for the corner of the box, pressing a button. “Hey, Cher!”
