Chapter 22 Monroe
MONROE
“I’m so glad you were up for coming out tonight, Monroe,” Cherri says between spoonfuls of vegetable stew.
“Same.” I cut into my braised lamb shank and dip it into the accompanying sauce. “I wanted to thank you all for helping me out since I got here.”
“Of course.” Cherri sets down her spoon and reaches for my free hand, giving it a squeeze while not breaking eye contact. “We’ve all been there.”
“You’ve honestly been taking it really well.” Kendrick nods along and scoops up some strawberry shortcake, shoving it into his mouth. He ordered two. As his dinner. I’d expect nothing less from a group of immortals.
“I still can’t believe you jumped right into training,” Roxy says with a shake of her head and long sigh that tells me how crazy she thinks it is.
Cherri grins and lifts her veggie-filled spoon at me. “Seriously badass.”
“I don’t know about badass. I just…needed to do something.”
“I get that,” Kendrick agrees between mouthfuls of strawberries.
What was the alternative? Hide away in my room and waste my days crying about something I had no control over? Why would I do that when I could spend my time learning how to get back to the people who rely on me? The ones who love me.
Mourn me.
As happy as I am to be out with my roommates, I miss the comfort of talking with Beth and Richard at Sunday dinner.
I looked forward to it every week. Yes, it was a way to check on them, but they were incredible listeners too, always asking how things were going with work, Painting Hope, Jessica Rabbit, and Jay, when we were together.
Asking questions was usually my domain, as a therapist. I rarely talked about myself.
But Charlotte’s parents were truly interested in my life.
Did they still think of me on Sunday nights?
I shovel another bite of lamb into my mouth, chewing over my nostalgia before swallowing it down.
Tonight was about being in the present, so I refocus on my roommates.
The rest of dinner is lovely. Roxy gives us all the café gossip, and Kendrick tells us about his students.
He’s currently reading them Alice in Wonderland, and I grin, the pieces falling into place about my mystery relaxation treat.
Despite the shitty situation I find myself in, I’m lucky to have the three of them.
After we finish, there’s no bill to pay, so we leave, exiting out onto the cobblestone streets.
“This way,” Roxy says, waving in the direction of Novel Nibbles.
Across from the café bookstore is a taller building with dark-green siding and roses in shades of reds, dusky pinks, and whites cradled in rose-gold planters.
Two windows curve like ears from a pebbled glass door.
My attention drifts to the harbingers making out beneath a scripted sign, its painted letters cracked and peeling.
“The Velveteen Rose?” I ask, gaze focused on the sign and certainly not the Blooms’ fingers grazing each other’s skirt hems. My cheeks flame.
“It’s my favorite place to go out. You’re going to love it,” Cherri says.
Behind her, Kendrick grabs the large rose-gold rose-shaped door handle that splits in half at the entrance. Velvet chaises and couches line the walls and lights capped in gilded rose petals hang from the ceiling.
“Come on, let’s dance.” Before I respond, Cherri pulls me into the crowd of silhouettes, their movements illuminated by golden spotlights swirling above the large, open dance floor.
The music is an upbeat instrumental, and I can’t help but shake my hips.
Cherri waves her arm, gesturing around the club. “Isn’t this place amazing?”
The music slows, transforming into a sultry beat that reverberates up from the floor.
Out of the corner of my eye, Roxy loops her arm around Kendrick’s neck, and they sway back and forth.
His hand cradles the base of her spine, eyes glued to the rhythmic rock of her hips.
There’s no mistaking the energy radiating off them…
Have I ever had someone stare at me like that, deeper than hungry lust?
A chain of four harbingers snakes through the crowd, heading to one of the corners of the room where a large flower-shaped bed with cushioned petals sits. The golden orbs hanging above it illuminate their touches and kisses as they begin disrobing.
“Are those four…” I can’t even get out the words, but one moment they are undressing and the next, they are all completely naked. The three men kiss the woman and lay her down at the center of the flower, using the petals surrounding it to spread her legs and— “Oh my God.”
Two tend to her dusky-evergreen nipples between kisses, each of them stroking their dick: one dark purple and the other rich pink.
Inky flora spans their fists, almost blending into the flourish marks inked up and down their shafts.
I nibble at my bottom lip. The third harbinger kneels before her, slightly blocking our view.
“Takes a bit to get used to,” Cherri whispers but continues dancing. “But, Fates above, they are hot, aren’t they?” She shamelessly fans herself.
I swallow thickly. “They really are.”
My whole body is warm, and I note a handful of other club-goers are watching them with rapt interest. It doesn’t bother anyone in the slightest. A few Blooms are spurred on by the display, finding their own velvet chaises with a partner or by themselves.
“As you can see, we don’t let anything stop us when the mood strikes.” Cherri chuckles. She drags a finger back and forth over her lips, a shade more flushed than their usual rosy hue.
“Within reason,” I add, a bit breathless.
“Yes, of course.” Cherri takes my hands and begins dancing again, pulling my attention away from the foursome taking place in the well-lit corner, along with the numerous other harbingers going at it. “But in this burrow, it’s completely acceptable.”
“If someone wants to watch, then that’s fair game,” Roxy says, tugging Kendrick over. He follows her every movement, not glancing at the people fucking around the outskirts of the room.
“It’s normally invited,” he adds, then nuzzles his nose against her and catches her bottom lip between his teeth. They begin making out, hips grooving with the music.
My brows furrow. “Are all harbingers like this?”
“No clue,” Cherri replies as our roommates continue kissing and dancing like we aren’t there. “I can only speak for the Blooms.”
“Is that how you all have so much magic?”
“I mean, it certainly helps.” Cherri scans the crowd. “That being said, if you find someone you’re interested in tonight, you don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. You can always invite them back to your place or there are plenty of more private areas farther back.”
“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 me curious 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’t need someone 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.