42
Jeryn
We gave each other a wide berth while harvesting flora that yielded a topical application for burns. Squatting beside the cluster of stems, I brooded in silence. In my periphery, Flare wrenched the same specimens by the roots and jammed them into her satchel.
Typically, I preferred routine. Presently, it unnerved the shit out of me.
It had been like this for days since the clan left. Uncertain. Unresolved. We had decided, and our paths would eventually diverge, yet the question of what happened until then remained.
The air shifted. We paused and slanted our heads as clouds piled overhead, replacing the meager lacings of blue sky that strained through the canopy. Out of nowhere, insects and avians scattered.
Flare and I followed suit, racing across the dirt and hunkering beneath a copse of ferns. An instant later, the firmament boomed, and the downpour began.
Thunder rain. Its impact assaulted the vegetation, striking with enough force to knock a person to the floor. Blows to the head could result in concussions. I’d suspected as much since our initial encounter with this deluge, back when Flare had exposed herself to every type of onslaught before I could stop her. Believing it to be part of the rainforest’s initiation—in accordance with Summer’s culture of answering nature’s will —she’d been determined to subject herself. With this particular tempest, she had dislocated her shoulder and cursed me to hell as I’d reset it.
As the torrent punched the ground in frustrated sheets, Flare’s elbow bumped into my waist. She did not have enough space.
I shifted, placing myself at the edge of our shelter, which provided her with ample room to hide. Partial exposure left me vulnerable, a lone droplet hammering against my knuckles. I hissed and shook out my wrist.
A belt of wind drove through the forest. The clouds were moving swiftly. Perhaps ten minutes of this and we could separate.
Flare’s body heat brushed my back. Depleted of patience, I counted. When I finished, the weather cleared.
On reflex, we checked on each other. Neither of us suffered from contusions other than the mark on my hand. That nuisance had already formed into a purple bruise.
Satisfied, we drifted apart. As the hours passed, I caught myself glancing over my shoulder. Flare’s legs kicked through the underbrush, her movements producing a swishing sound that matched the sway of her hips, the plants caressing her thighs like fingers.
Enough. For fuck’s sake.
I turned away, stalking farther from her. Memories of my cock lunging into Flare, fucking her upright in the ocean until cries poured from her mouth, lingered like the traces of a forbidden stimulant.
I crouched low, jammed samples into my bag, and flinched in surprise. A spindly tendril of green had snatched my wrist. Evidently, I’d wandered a considerable distance off course and ended up in the jungle, where these shrubs had grabbed me once before. While Flare and her fauna pack had played hide- and-seek, the vines had cinched harder each time I’d moved. That had been when I asked Flare to have dinner with me.
I rotated my wrist, exercising cautious motions that kept the plant’s grip from intensifying. At length, I disentangled myself from the stranglehold. Quite the formidable hazard, these shrubs’ method of defense, which required prudent maneuvering, to avoid getting stuck. Otherwise, this trap would be a danger to one’s circulation, among other potential consequences.
I studied the hedges, some of them matching my height and others surpassing it. What had Flare said during our early days? Look farther. Not closer. Although this rule did not always apply, things weren’t always as they seemed in this rainforest.
I stepped back and angled my head, imagining how she might view this convolution of foliage. From a distance, something about the pattern struck me. In other parts of this environment, chameleon flowers disguised themselves in plain sight like Flare’s map.
The afternoon light waned. My vision would soon be impaired.
I observed at length, noting a concealed break in the hedges. Raising my palms, I approached, expecting to feel the first stab of the wall. Instead, my hands bypassed the shrubs, their density an illusion.
Inching my way through, I stepped into a camouflaged passage. Withdrawing my knife, I progressed through the channel. As the minutes passed, the sound of boiling liquid amplified.
Through a tunnel of offshoots, I strode into an enclosure. Steam rose from a round depression of water. The liquid glowed, its color reminiscent of lapis lazuli, and bubbles shot to the surface from below.
I went through the scrupulous motions of testing the pool, including sticking a branch into its depth to see if it charred the wood, then consuming small bits in stages. The scent, clarity, temperature, and taste appeared to be safe.
By the time I ruled out possible threats, dusk had fallen. Flare would notice my absence. With the sky and moon shrouded, we’d have to navigate back to the ruins by memory.
I rubbed my thumb over the opposite hand, where the raindrop had struck me. Absently, I glanced down. The bruise had smeared, its discoloration having rinsed off after coming in contact with my finger, which was damp from inspecting the bubbling water.
My eyes narrowed. I rubbed my skin again, erasing the mark, although the ache itself persisted. Nonetheless, a theory presented itself and stunted my breathing. Quickly, I stalked back the way I’d come, making a swift trip of it.
Flare had kept to the same vicinity. I found her sitting on the dry soil and admiring the day’s end, with her head craned to the forest canopy. Any other companion might have glared and asked me where the hell I’d disappeared to.
She twisted and blinked at my outstretched hand. “Come with me,” I murmured.
No protests about missing the sunset. No warnings about the dark paths we’d have to travel through later.
Not that we hadn’t grown used to it, but we’d ventured farther from the ruins than usual at this hour. Ever dauntless, Flare set her fingers in mine, the touch producing a blast of heat through my veins.
Fuck almighty. This woman.
Encasing her fingers in mine, I led us to the jungle. As we got closer to our destination, my blood stirred at the prospect of her reaction and what the pool might do for her.
Once we arrived, Flare’s lips parted. Her gilded eyes landed on the water and its churning surface, the incandescence resistant to the darkness. I suspected some manner of fluorescing mineral was present, whereas she would expect enchantment like most people.
“I think it’s a wellspring,” I said. “Healing waters. The spring is hot, conducive to muscle relaxation. But that’s not all.”
We deposited our satchels, weapons, and belts. The clothes stayed on, though I reached behind and whipped off my shirt, and Flare wore nothing but a slinky linen dress that flounced around her ass. We submerged ourselves. I groaned, the heat washing over my joints while Flare dunked her head, resurfacing on a laugh.
Yet quickly, her mirth deteriorated. It had to be the expression on my face, which had to do with the sight of her neck.
“What?” she asked.
Speechless, I snatched my shirt from the rim. Holding her gaze, I brushed the cloth across her throat and held it aloft, exhibiting it in the water’s glow. Traces of paint smeared the fabric.
Flare’s eyes widened. After a shocked moment, those irises glistened with comprehension. Then disbelief. Then wonder. A gasp dropped from her lips, and a tearful smile lifted her features.
My lungs failed to function. I had always known she was exquisite. Those metallic eyes. Those enduring hands. But this vision of her was devastating. Freedom made her more stunning than she’d ever been.
Without a word, I offered Flare the material. She took it, her movements eager as she doused the shirt and washed away the sunbursts. The tattoos drizzled, black ink streaking down her body and melting into the spring.
I had not seen her cry before. And while I’d never put stock in miracles, the sight of her joyful tears knocked the fucking wind from me. Seasons flay me, but this moment might turn me into a believer.
With a grin, Flare handed back the shirt. I accepted the garment, crushed it in my fist, and tossed it aside, the wet material striking the ledge. My fingers itched to cup her face. Fuck, I wanted to do a lot more than that.
Underwater, my arms snaked around Flare’s waist and tightened, hoisting her against my frame. Like this, she hooked her fingers over my shoulders, and her forehead settled against mine, our noses tapping.
Flare’s soaked dress abraded the muscles of my torso. Her nipples toughened, the points scraping my pectorals. Beads drizzled down our chins as we tilted our heads, my exhalations rushing against hers.
My tongue flicked one of her tears and tasted salt. Simple. Pivotal. Then my mouth dragged to hers, our lips resting against one another.
The brink of a kiss. The threshold of more.
I uttered a gruff noise against her lips. “Flare.”
“Jeryn,” she replied.
Our names filled the enclosure, a latch breaking open after being sealed for too long. I had fucking missed this—touching her, talking with her.
With a shitload of discipline, I marshaled my thoughts. “That night at the ocean. I meant what I’d said.” I welded my eyes shut. “I do not deserve you.”
Abruptly, she pinched my chin, urging my eyes to open. “Yet you still had me that night. As I had you.”
A muscle throbbed in my jaw. “I traded for you. I took you captive.”
“But you wouldn’t now.” Flare sketched a finger across my lower lip. “Besides, nobody owns me anymore.”
“And if I have my vicious way, no one ever shall. Yet we are worlds apart.”
She nodded. “And in our own world.”
I groaned. “You’ve fucked up my life.”
“That makes us even.”
“I’m sorry,” I hissed, the words slicing from my gut. “I’m so sorry, Flare.”
Although I would not ask forgiveness, her bare throat bobbed. “I forgive you, if you forgive yourself. If this has to end someday, let’s use the time we have left.”
“That will lead to pain. I won’t do that to you.”
“It’s my choice. And with the pain, it will yield something else.” Her other palm cradled my jaw. “Something beautiful.”
I leaned into her touch, a strange sound creeping out of me, brittle and destitute. “What if I can’t do this justice? What if I fail you?”
“Let’s find out.” She dipped her finger between my aching teeth. “Make love to me.”