Page 40 of Inked in Bloom
He lets out a strangled sound. It’s all the confirmation I need.
“Anyway, there’s nothing a mate can do for me that I can’t for myself. Everyone keeps talking about The Nestling Fields and some claiming ceremony,” I continue. “While I’m sure Fate designating us a steady sexual partner to work the edge off with wouldn’t be so bad?—”
“Wouldn’t be so bad…” he mutters, exhaling and gripping the ledge of the desk behind him, tracing the woodgrain. I swear his nostrils flare and the lavender in his stare becomes more vibrant. He shifts his weight on the desk, thumbing the second button of his shirt. The top one is undone, an inky curve coming across his chest and disappearing beneath the fabric.
“Are they baking something here?” I ask, sniffing the air. He scrunches his nose. I glance around. “It reminds me of powdered sugar or something.”
Briar’s brows knit together above his glasses and he releases a long exhale. “Monroe, a mate mark cannot be undone. Once it’s inked onto your skin, it’s permanent. Like the flourish marks.” He lifts his arm up so I can see the lines and shading up close. The rose budding across the back of his hand moves with each flex of his wrist. Inky flowers and thorny stems crawl up beneath where his sleeve is rolled up. “There is no erasing or removing.”
I could stare at the artistry of those marks for so much longer. It’s hard to imagine I’ll have them too one day. It’s even harder to imagine I already have one hidden beneath my shirt, but the itching hasn’t let up enough for me to forget why I came here. “So I’m stuck with whoever this mate is for eternity?”
“You’d still have to accept the bond and claim your mate.”
My ears perk up. “So there’s a way to deny it?”
“There is.” He swallows and purses his lips a moment. “You can let it wither, but it’s not a fun process for either of you?—”
“Wither how?”
“Just like any relationship, it takes tending. If you don’t nurture the bond, it can’t grow. Becomes brittle, painful, hollow… At least that’s how it’s been described to me.”
I hate his obscure answers. They aren’t doing him any favors in changing my mind about disliking him.
Frowning, he draws his hand away from where I’ve been absentmindedly tracing the lines with the tip of my nail.
What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe this mark has truly made me defective.
“If you reject the bond, you’ll still feel it and be drawn to it.” The gentleness has fled his voice and the words become clinical, like he’s reading from a script he’s repeated many times. Perhaps he has. It’s not like he’s mated, so any information he gives me is regurgitated from what he’s been taught to say or told by others. “The more time that passes, the more you ignore it, the more discomfort it’ll cause.”
“Does that discomfort eventually go away?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure. It’s rare for someone to reject the bond, and it’s not something those harbingers like to discuss.”
“Great.” I sigh and stand up, lifting my chin to leave with some semblance of dignity. “When I came in here and saw you were the Radix I’d have to talk to, I almost turned around, but I thought after everything… If you were as sorry as you claim to be, you’d at least try to talk to her.”
I pivot toward the door, and strong fingers wrap around my forearm. It’s not a firm enough grip to stop me, but it’s enough to make me twist my attention over my shoulder. The hard lines of Briar’s face have smoothed. He looks more resigned than anything.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t try, I said I don’t think it can be undone.” Our gazes are both locked on the inky curve of his hand enveloping my pale-quartz skin. An unblemished reminder of how little I know. Warmth flutters along my flesh, fizzing where we touch. It goes cold as soon as he releases me, tucking his hands into the pockets of his dark-blue jeans. “I will take your issue to Fate and see if there’s another way.”
“Thank you.” I drag my gaze up his arm, following the tattoos winding up his throat, until I pass over his stubbled lavender beard and land on his piercing stare. “And in the meantime?”
“Focus on your studies. Try to relax a little. Nurture yourself. I know it’s a lot right now, but give it a chance. Who knows, you may come to love something about being a Bloom.”
I scoff. “If that’s your way of trying to convince me that I may come around on the mate mark, it won’t work.”
“I’m not here to convince you of anything.” That authoritative tone returns, but there’s no pompous lift to his chest, no façade. Somehow that makes the space between my ribs pinch even more. “Only hoping you find some happiness here.”
“I think I’ll be happier without this mate business weighing on me.” At least until I can get back to the mortal world. “So thanks for agreeing to speak with Fate.”
As soon as I say the words, a strange sadness slips between my ribs like a dull shiv, and part of me wants to take them back.
“Of course.” He nods and gets up from the desk, crossing the room to open the door for me. “I’ll let you know once I’ve talked to her.”
I pause before I reach the hall. “Briar— I mean, Radix Briar. One more favor.”
He huffs out half a laugh, low and velvety. “Only one?”
“Keep this conversation between us? I would hate for whoever’s been stuck with me to somehow find out. It’s not their fault I don’t want this.”
