Page 41 of Inked in Bloom
I’m not trying to be unkind. I get that a mate is a blessing to most Blooms—just not me.
The ball of his throat works, but he nods in agreement. “And if I learn who it is, would you want to know?”
“No. I’d rather not know.” I shift on my heels. “Ideally, Fate will find them someone new and they’ll be none the wiser.”
Pursing his lips, the Radix hesitates a moment, but then he finally meets my gaze and nods. “As you wish.”
Without another word, Iclackmy way down the hall, hoping whatever sway Briar has is enough for Fate to listen.
SEPTEMBER
18
MONROE
For the next two weeks I focus on my classes and learning as much as possible. Briar still hasn’t returned to teach, and the dean has taken over Transformational Studies in his absence. While I have no desire to see him, there’s also been no word if he’s met with Fate.
The first week after the mate mark appeared, I was frantic, scanning over every harbinger we passed for any sign of recognition, random chest scratching, waiting for someone to declare their eternal devotion.
I’ve tried to put it out of my mind, ignore the unfamiliar sensations that hit me out of nowhere, but the idea of running into whoever it is fills me with dread—at odds with the messed-up curiosity to know more about them. Worst of all, my emotions are out of control. Random bouts of sadness, longing, or frustration cloud my days. I try using my therapy toolbox and regulating techniques, but nothing works. Then,poof, they’re suddenly gone.
It’s like having constant PMS—definitely not conducive to focusing on my studies to get back home. No wonder I have no magic to work with.
I’m an immortal trainwreck.
To avoid any unwanted mate run-ins, I’ve kept my outings to the Conservatory and the café withCherri after class. When Roxy gets off work, we head home, and I tuck away in my room, studying or painting any items I can get my hands on.
So far, I’ve made over a collection of mugs, two teapots, a small statue of a bunny, four saucers, and one picture frame. Sneaking them back to their original places is tricky but worth it. I’m not trying to steal anything, but with all the color in this realm, those plain pieces deserve some vibrancy as well. Meanwhile, the canvas sits empty on its easel in the corner.
Whoever my mate is, they haven’t found me. Thank goodness.
Hopefully, Fate gets this figured out. She’ll surely reassign them someone who is desperate for a mate. Someone like Cherri, who’s sitting beside me, staring dreamily at our professors.
I jolt when she snaps out of her lusty haze. “Look who’s back.”
Briar strides in, hanging his jacket from his usual tulip hook. My back stiffens as he scans the room, though he avoids my gaze. “Go ahead and circle up, everyone.”
Guess he’s honoring my request for him to stay out of my way.
It’s what I wanted, isn’t it? I should be pleased, but there’s a kernel of disappointment I can’t shake. Not until I know if he’s spoken with Fate. Nerves bubble through my belly, nausea curdling until bile surges up my throat. I swallow it down.
“Sorry for my absence, I was under the weather and then had some urgent Radix business to attend to.” He joins us in the circle, and now that I’m closer, he looks much better than he did a few weeks ago in his office. No bags under his eyes, no taut lines along his face. “Anyone up fordemonstrating where they’re at in their transformation? I’d love to see what progress you’ve made while I was out.”
About five hands shoot up, including Cherri’s. I’m grateful my classmates are eager to show off because I’m still unable to do anything special. It seems especially cruel that the closest I’ve gotten to any magic is when it was inked across my skin. Not even through intention or choice. I should at least be able to dress myself at this point.
“Skylar, why don’t you go first?” Her mint skin and dark-green eyes make her look like a lithe piece of broccoli with a wad of bubblegum stuck to its top as she steps into the center of the circle. Unzipping her black mini dress, she lowers one sleeve and, in elegant precision, sinks to the floor, becoming a mop of fluffy dark-brown fur and long, floppy ears. Her dark-pink-flecked nose wriggles. My eyes widen. We haven’t practiced shifting while Briar was out. The dean’s been keen on ensuring we fully understand the anatomical changes between harbinger and bunny, but somehow Skylar’s already perfected it.
Bet she can even dress herself, lucky bitch.
I frown at the black lace bodysuit and cutoff jeans Cherri convinced me to wear this morning. Convinced is generous because she chose it for me and I’ve gotten too lazy to protest. Every day my outfit becomes tighter and made with less fabric. I’d fire her from her stylist duties, but there aren’t enough drapes in the house to last me a week.
Two more students go, and while they aren’t as seamless as Skylar, once they are naked and have tried a few times, they are able to bounce in and out of their bunny forms.
“Very good. You all must have been practicing hard these last few weeks. Cherri, why don’t you give it a shot?” Briar says, hands in his pockets.
My roommate shuffles out to the center. I’m so used toher exuding confidence that her nervous expression cuts through my own anxiety.
I give her a nod of encouragement, and a faint smile graces her lips. Cracking her neck, she flexes her fingers, takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes.
