Page 51 of Inked in Bloom
“Or you can go wild in The Nestling Fields,” Roxy adds, coming up for air between kisses.
We go back to dancing, and I get lost in the music until a finger taps my shoulder. I pivot, finding an indigo-hued harbinger with pale-pink hair and lashes. I recognize him as one of the workers from the crêpe stall in City Center. “Mind if I join you?”
“Sure,” I reply, continuing to dance.
He takes my hand and spins me under his arm, then inches a bit closer. “Tom.”
His smile is infectious, and I can’t help but return it and sway to the rhythm, closing the space between us until his knee slides against the inside of mine. “Monroe.”
He’s cute with a boyish sort of charm that I’ve come to enjoy during my daily breakfast run on the way to class. Despite looking like he’s fresh out of college, I know he’s much older. The tattoos covering every visible inch of skin are a testament to that. While young Blooms age at the same rate as their human counterparts, once a harbinger reaches maturity, their aging process slows considerably. This guy could be much older than me…but it’s probably rude to ask.
Tom cradles my back, dipping me and then snapping me up. I grab hold of him to steady myself, and my cheek rests on his chest. If this is how Tom dances, it’s definitely got mecurious about his other rhythmical talents. From the way his eyes rake over me, he’s looking for an invitation, and I’m feeling inclined to give it.
A handful of dances later, he wipes his brow and leans closer, whispering in my ear. “Can I get you something to drink? I’m parched.”
“Me too.”For water and some horizontal stress relief.“Water would be great,” I clarify.
I trail him with my gaze toward the bar, not missing the two harbingers screwing against the wall. The one in front drags his nails down the papering while the man behind him strokes his partner’s dick, thrusting into him.
My mind ripples back to the intensity of yesterday’s orgasms. While I don’tneedsomeone else to get me off, when was the last time I got to enjoy the physicality of sex? Of the press, the sweat, the writhing…
A shiver trills up my spine and my toes curl in my booties.
On one of the velvet flowers, two couples seem to be having a competition of who can make their partner come first, their fingers swirling over sensitive flesh, their eyes flashing with challenge at each other.
Behind them, a willowy harbinger leans forward, whispering into the ear of another leaning against the wall. The lights are dim, almost too dim to see along the edges of the room, but familiar lavender irises catch me from over her shoulder. One hand braces her back, which straightens, gaze flicking in my direction. Her lips are set in a line, and my stomach twists.
“Here you go,” Tom calls, snapping my attention from my professor and his tall wallflower to the cute guy clutching two big glasses of water. He’s even put pastel straws and lavender sprigs in them.
“Thank you.” I take my glass, holding the straw and swirling the water a few times, giving him a long, lingering stare before setting it between my lips. I sip slowly, ignoring the pinch in my ribs. His brows lift and the corner of his mouth kicks up into a mischievous smirk.
Tom’s definitely picking up what I’m putting down.
Before I know it, my glass is empty.
“Let me take that for you,” he offers, holding out a hand. He grabs my glass and wanders in the direction of the server walking around.
I don’t know why the first thing I do is glance at the wall, but when I do, Briar and the woman are gone. Did they leave together?
“Can you tell Tom I went outside to get some fresh air?” I ask Cherri. She nods as she dances with Skylar and another girl from our class.
Pushing through the crowd, I head up the stairs and exit The Velveteen Rose.
I peer around the corner. Maybe they’re heading toward the tunnel leading to The Nestling Fields? Anger bubbles through my chest. Not sure why. He can do whatever he wants. At least this clears up his new mate mark appearing after his two-week hiatus. Maybe she’s also his mate. We did learn it’s possible to have more than one.
Good for him.
At least that alleviates the concern about our matching peonies. Mine is still out there, blissfully unaware he’s bound to me. It’s a bit dizzying how content I am with this development.
That is, until I spot Briar coming out of Novel Nibbles bookstore.
“Surprised to see you out here,” he says, walking over and leaning his elbow against the wall. The street lampsmake the lavender of his irises even more striking than usual. Stupid mated eyes. I swallow thickly, trying to collect my thoughts. “Seemed like you were having a great time inside.”
The corner of his jaw ticks.
“I was—am.” Annoyance flares in my chest, so I cross my arms and stick out my chest. “You seemed to be as well. Where’s yourfriend?”
His brows lift, like he’s surprised I’ve caught on to the fact that she’s his mate. “She didn’t want to miss the last few acts for open mic night.”
