Chapter 021 Pleasure Grove
I woke up with a mouth that tasted like frost and a body that felt like it had been run over by a truck made of unresolved sexual tension. The black-and-gold roses were still everywhere-climbing the walls, spilling over the bedframe, even tangled in my hair. One petal had stuck itself to my cheek overnight. I peeled it off and stared at it, the gold edge catching the morning light filtering through the leaves that now served as curtains.
Proof, Thalren had called them. Proof that his rot and my whatever-the-hell-I-had didn't always cancel each other out.
Great. My room looked like a goth florist's wet dream, and I still hadn't slept worth a damn.
Glimm was already buzzing around my head like an annoying alarm clock with wings.
"Rise and shine, petal princess," he sang, landing on my nose. "Or should I say, rise and pine? Because somebody spent the whole night tossing and turning and-"
"Finish that sentence and I'll squash you," I muttered, swatting at him half-heartedly.
He dodged easily, laughing that tinkling laugh that sounded like wind chimes having a seizure. "Oh please. You reek of frustration. Both of you do. It's seeping through the walls. I swear the entire Thornwood knows you two finally kissed and then... nothing."
I groaned and pulled the covers over my head. The fabric smelled like roses and whatever winter scent clung to Thalren's coat. My lips still tingled when I thought about it. Which was constantly.
"There was something," I said into the pillow. "There were flowers. Impossible ones."
"Yes, yes, very romantic. Black roses with gold tips. Symbolism out the ass." Glimm landed on the blanket mound that was my shoulder. "But you didn't seal the deal, did you? All that tension, that delicious push-pull, and you let him walk away with a 'sleep well'?"
"He said we had a war to start."
"Exactly. War. Death. Doom. All the more reason to bang it out while you still can."
I threw the covers off and glared at him. "Did you just say 'bang it out'?"
Glimm shrugged his tiny shoulders. "I'm adapting to your vernacular. Now get up. I have a surprise that's going to fix this ridiculous stalemate."
I should've known better. I really should've. But I was tired, frustrated, and the idea of a distraction sounded better than lying here replaying that kiss on loop.
"Fine," I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Roses crunched under my feet. "But if this surprise involves more dancing or emotional revelations before coffee-"
"No coffee here, sweetheart. But trust me. This is better."
He zipped out toward the balcony doors. I followed, still in yesterday's clothes because everything else was covered in flowers. The shared balcony between my chambers and Thalren's was empty, morning light slanting across the stone floor. The air smelled like dew and something sweet underneath.
Thalren was already there, leaning against the railing. He looked like he hadn't slept either-hair messy, shirt untucked, the corruption marks on his neck more visible in the daylight. Black veins crawling up toward his jaw like frost on glass.
He straightened when he saw me. His eyes did that thing again-dropping to my mouth, then snapping back up.
"Morning," I said. My voice came out rough.
"Aria." Just my name, but it hit like a punch.
Glimm chose that moment to dive between us like a tiny winged missile. "Perfect! You're both here. Excellent. Barnaby!"
He made this weird clicking noise with his mandibles, and from somewhere below the balcony came the deep, resonant hum of wings. A shadow passed overhead, and then Barnaby-the massive bee that apparently served as Glimm's personal Uber-hovered into view. He was the size of a small car, fuzzy and golden, with eyes like polished onyx.
Barnaby landed gently on the wide balcony railing, wings slowing to a lazy buzz.
"Morning ride?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Trust me," Glimm said, already climbing onto Barnaby's back between the segments. "You both need this."
Thalren and I exchanged a look. His was wary. Mine was probably desperate.
We climbed on anyway.
Barnaby launched us into the air with a lurch that had me grabbing instinctively for something stable. That something turned out to be Thalren's waist. His arms came around me immediately, steadying us both.
The flight was short but breathtaking. We soared over the Thornwood Throne's sprawling gardens-sections of perfect order mixed with wild tangles, everything glowing with that impossible fey light. The air rushed past, cool and sweet, carrying scents of different flowers with every beat of Barnaby's wings.
Glimm was chattering the whole time about nothing important-something about the Archives having a new shipment of glowing moss, or whatever. But underneath the banter, the tension between Thalren and me was thick enough to cut.
His body was warm against mine. Solid. Every shift of Barnaby's flight pressed us closer. I could feel his heartbeat through his shirt. Fast. Like mine.
We descended toward a section of garden I'd never seen before-tucked away behind a thick wall of flowering vines, hidden from the main paths. Barnaby landed in a small clearing ringed by trees whose leaves shimmered like stained glass.
The moment we dismounted, the air changed.
It got heavier. Sweeter. Like breathing honey. My skin prickled, every nerve suddenly wide awake.
Glimm hopped off Barnaby and did a little twirl in the air.
"Welcome," he announced grandly, "to the Pleasure Grove."
Thalren went very still beside me.
I looked around. The clearing was beautiful in a way that felt... dangerous. Flowers in colors that hurt to look at directly. Vines thick as my wrist dangling from branches, pulsing faintly. Patches of mushrooms glowing soft blue, their caps dusted with shimmering residue.
And the smell. God, the smell. Like sex and candy and summer nights all mixed together.
"Glimm," Thalren said. His voice was low. Warning.
The beetle laughed. "Oh relax, guardian. It's not poison. It's just... encouraging. Amplifies what's already there." He winked at me. "Consider it a public service."
Then he zipped away, disappearing into the foliage with Barnaby lumbering after him.
Leaving us alone.
The silence stretched. The air felt thicker with every breath.
I turned to Thalren. "So this is-"
"The old Pleasure Grove," he finished. "Hidden for centuries. Your grandmother... rediscovered it."
Of course she did. Grandma Jo, living her best life.
I took a step closer to him. The ground was soft under my feet, like walking on moss that sighed when you stepped on it.
"Amplifies what's already there," I repeated Glimm's words. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it.
Thalren's eyes were dark. "Aria-"
"No," I said. I stepped closer again. Close enough to feel the cold radiating off him against the garden's heat. "Don't. Don't give me the noble sacrifice speech. Not here."
His hands clenched at his sides. "This place... it clouds judgment."
"Does it?" I reached up and touched his face, tracing the edge of a corruption mark. He flinched but didn't pull away. "Or does it just make us brave enough to tell the truth?"
The vines around us shifted. Slowly. Like they were listening.
Thalren made a sound-half groan, half curse-and then his restraint snapped.
He kissed me like a man drowning. Hands in my hair, body pressing me back against the trunk of a tree whose bark felt like velvet. The garden responded immediately-flowers blooming in bursts of color, vines curling closer.
I kissed him back just as desperately. Weeks of tension, of almosts and denials, pouring out all at once.
Clothes came off in frantic handfuls. His shirt first-I needed to see the marks, needed to touch them. They were worse than yesterday, spreading across his chest like spilled ink. But when I touched them, they didn't hurt him. He shuddered, but it wasn't pain.
The garden provided.
A thick vine curled around my waist, gentle but firm, lifting me slightly so I didn't have to strain to reach him. Another supported his back when he pressed me harder against the tree.
There were leaves scattered on the ground-broad, glossy things that smelled different when you bruised them. I grabbed one at random and bit it experimentally. Chocolate. Rich and dark.
Thalren's eyes went wide when I kissed him again, sharing the taste.
"Gods," he muttered against my mouth.
We found more leaves. Peppermint that made everything tingle. Berry that tasted like summer. Bubblegum-ridiculous and perfect.
The glowing mushrooms were next. I broke one open, smearing the luminescent residue across his chest. It glowed soft blue against his skin, highlighting every mark, every muscle. He did the same to me-slow, reverent strokes that had me arching into his touch.
The paint tasted sweet when he licked it off. Effervescent. Like champagne on the tongue.
The vines were... helpful. They formed a kind of swing between two trees, cradling us both. Weightless. Perfect angles.
I lost track of positions, of time. There was his mouth between my legs, chocolate and peppermint mixing with my taste until I was shaking apart. My hands in his hair, guiding, demanding.
There was me on my knees, taking him deep while vines held my hair back gently. The way he groaned my name like a prayer.
There was the swing-him behind me, deep and steady, one hand painted blue on my hip, the other tangled with mine. The rhythm building until the whole garden seemed to pulse with us.
There was face-to-face, slow and devastating, foreheads pressed together as we moved. The bond wide open, sharing everything-pleasure, sensation, emotion. I felt what he felt when I clenched around him. He felt what I felt when he hit that perfect spot.
We came together more times than I could count. Each release triggering blooms-flowers bursting open around us in impossible colors. The air thick with pollen that tasted like sex.
Finally, spent and shaking, we collapsed into a nest the vines had woven-soft and cradling, like a living bed.
Thalren's arms around me. My head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow.
The garden quieted around us. Sated.
I traced lazy patterns in the glowing paint still on his skin.
"I've lived hundreds of years," he said quietly, voice rough, "and I have never felt like this."
I smiled against his chest. "Me neither. And I've only lived twenty-something."
He laughed-actually laughed. The sound rumbled through me.
We stayed like that until the paint started to fade and the garden's heat became less oppressive.
There was a spring nearby-warm water bubbling up from underground, clear and perfect. We cleaned each other slowly. Gently. No urgency now, just tenderness.
That's when he told me.
His hands were washing my back, careful around where vines had left faint marks. His voice was quiet.
"The corruption... it's accelerating."
I went still.
"The roses proved our magic can synthesize. But the filter is clogged beyond repair." He pressed his forehead to my shoulder. "I won't survive the convergence."
The water felt suddenly cold.
I turned in his arms. "You don't know that."
"I do." His eyes were steady. "I've known for weeks. I just... have enough time to ensure you survive it. To teach you what you need to know."
I felt something crack open in my chest. Not dramatic. Just... inevitable.
First Mom. Then Dad checking out emotionally. Julian leaving without a backward glance. Grandma Jo, the one constant, gone.
And now this. Now him.
"I just got you," I whispered. "And you're already telling me I'm going to lose you."
His arms tightened. "I'm sorry."
I cried then. Quietly. Into his chest while the warm water ran over us both.
But when the tears stopped, something else settled in their place.
Determination.
We dressed slowly-clothes somehow clean, courtesy of the garden. The vines helped. Cheeky bastards.
Barnaby was waiting when we emerged, Glimm perched on his head looking smug.
"Well?" the beetle asked. "Feeling better?"
I flipped him off.
He laughed all the way home.
Back on the balcony, the sun was lower. Afternoon sliding toward evening.
Glimm took one look at us-hair damp, marks visible, the way we couldn't stop touching-and wisely fucked off.
"Have fun, lovebirds. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
Which wasn't much.
Thalren and I went inside. My room still smelled like roses and sex and him.
We didn't talk much. Just curled together on the bed, his arms around me, my back to his chest.
I listened to his heartbeat.
Counted the days.
Two weeks.
I'd lost everyone I'd ever loved one way or another.
But this time, I wasn't going to waste it protecting myself from the pain.
"We'd better make these two weeks count," I said into the quiet.
His arms tightened.
"We will," he promised.
I fell asleep like that-wrapped in winter, surrounded by flowers that shouldn't exist.
Knowing it wouldn't last.
Choosing it anyway.