Page 4 of Inked in Bloom
Once the third episode of the show is over and I’ve sufficiently vegged out, I spot Sir Thumps-A-Lot asleep on the couch cushion. Cleaning up after myself, I throw on my audiobook while I get ready for bed. One benefit of living alone is that I can listen to my spicy books without worrying about anyone else being around. I’ve recently been in a why choose mood, and after a delicious slow burn, things are finally heating up under the full moon.
Heading into my bathroom, I brush my teeth, listening to our heroine get railed against the window by her ex while her two new boyfriends watch from outside. My thighs clench and a flush spreads across my chest as the scene continues.
Damn, that’s hot.
Feeling frisky, I pull open the drawer and set my light-pink flower-shaped vibrator atop my nightstand. Turning out the light, I set my phone on its charger and climb under the covers. I’m about to grab my midnight self-care treat when my phone buzzes.
I sigh, glancing over at it, and set the vibrator down.
Dana
Dr. Tanner. Sorry to wake you, but would you be able to talk?
Dana’s a client and usually comes to Painting Hope every Friday, one of the sunnier personalities that cheers on the others in the group. She wasn’t there tonight, though, and I didn’t think much of it at the time, but a text this late is cause for concern.
Me
Of course. Give me five and I’ll be available.
With a yawn, I set my kettle atop a burner, sifting through the cabinet for my decaf teas and grabbing a calming herbal blend and a teacup with storybook scenes painted around its circumference. While I wait for the kettle’s wheeze, I fill the mug with water from the sink, tossing half into the soil of a browning succulent and the other half into a vase with some wilted ranunculus flowers, gifts from clients despite my gentle warnings about their doomed fates in my tiny apartment. As I let the tea steep, I call Dana, glad to be able to offer her some reassurance, even at the cost of personal downtime.
Guess I’ll rest when I’m dead.
2
BRIAR
Acrack of lightning rattles the windowpane, waking me with its neon branches. It splits the clouds, the roll of thunder echoing through the apartment. Those Storms doing what they do best, wrecking all our hard work and making me lose sleep.
I hate summer.
Mid-huff, I startle at the beady eyes watching me from the darkened corner of our pen. Jessica’s nose wriggles, sniffing me from as far away as possible. She knows I’m not meant to be here. That I’m not one of her kind. Not truly.
But here I am, stuck in bunny form for the past sixty-three days.
Sixty-three days.
At first, being in this tiny apartment was like a prison. I was trapped. My injury left me weak and wounded after helping a frantic Bloom caught in a fence, only to get stuck in its metal web myself.
Some Rescue Rider I turned out to be.
They’d made it back beyond the veil unscathed. I, on the other hand, ended up prodded by the stick of a toddler who screamed that I was dead. He wasn’t completely wrong…
Luckily, a woman with golden hair and green eyes untangled me. She took me to the nearest healer, whoprodded me and stuck me with needles, my leg got stitched up, and then I was reduced to wearing a fucking plastic collar around my neck.
The collar’s been removed a few weeks, and I’m much less miserable, but I’m still ready to get my tail out of here. If only it were that simple to get back home.
I missed my transport window, and now I’m forced to survive among the mortals until a fellow Rescue Rider finds me. With the way things have been heating up between the Blooms and the Storms, whoever they send from our small team will have to be stealthy. Who knows how long that will take. What I do know is that I won’t find a way home stuck in this woman’s apartment.
She sighs and I crane my neck to see her better from across the room. Her shoulders lower when she spots me from the dimly lit kitchen.
“Sorry to wake you, Sir Thumps-A-Lot.”
I groan, but of course it comes out as a cute huff.
That’s the best name this mortal could come up with?
She shuffles over, bending to scratch behind my ear. It’s almost enough to forgive her for her horrible naming skills. “Had to help a client tonight, but no worries, they’re okay now.”
