I’m Your Rain
i’m your rain
—EDEN
The sun warms my skin. I try to enjoy the weather, but my mind keeps wandering back to Ashán.
Ten full days without him. My fingers mindlessly trace the hem of my dress.
Sage hasn’t been the same since I had to use the dream dust a couple days ago.
We’ve spent most of our time outside, but his fever only worsens.
“Eden, are you okay?” Damien calls from across the yard, where he’s leaning against the thick trunk of an old oak. He’s become a comforting presence over the last few weeks.
“I’m alright,” I murmur, “just a little tired.”
Beside me, Sage lets out a soft, strained breath.
He’s pretending to watch the squirrels chase each other through the branches, but his weight has been slowly drifting into my side for the last ten minutes.
His shoulder feels like it’s on fire. He hasn’t spoken more than a handful of words to me all morning.
“Vaelí, is your head hurting again?” I murmur. “I can go with Damien to grab some more of the healing herbs?”
He lets out another shallow breath, his shoulders tensing as he slowly pulls his weight back off of me. His beautiful green skin looks dull, almost gray around his jawline, and his eyes are glazed over.
“Just… tired, mí’sírael,” he whispers. He tries to offer me one of his reassuring smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The sun is good for me. Don’t worry.”
“Sage, you’re burning up.” I lift my hand and press the back of my knuckles against his cheek.
The vibrant, leafy green vines woven across his shoulders look brittle. The edges are flaking away into dry, brown dust.
The Big Bird is crunchy, Droot chirps, pulsing a worried shade of gray.
“It’s okay, Droot. We’re taking The Big Bird inside and getting him into bed right now.”
He swallows hard, his knuckles turning white where his hands are clamped over his knees. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, Eden.”
The air around us begins to shift. The spring heat vanishes, replaced with a cool breeze carrying the scent of ancient oak and warm amber.
The scent is as unmistakable as his spinning halo.
The golden shimmer of his arrival settles over the grass as Therael steps out from the shade of the trees. His expression is brighter than normal.
“I wanted to congratulate you on the—” He pauses. His gaze catches where Sage is slumped entirely against my shoulder, and the warmth drains from his face. “Eden, how long has he looked like this?”
My stomach drops, and my hand tightens on Sage’s burning forearm.
“He’s been tired all morning, but… his vines just started flaking a few minutes ago. He feels like he’s on fire.”
Therael drops to his knees before the stone bench. His long, pale fingers gently lift Sage’s limp wrist.
“Sage,” Therael murmurs as he taps the side of Sage’s cheek. “Look at me.”
Sage tries to lift his chin, but his eyelids are so heavy they barely crack open. “I am… fine, Therael. Just a fever.”
“This is not a fever,” Therael counters, setting Sage’s wrist down with devout tenderness. He turns his head to me.
“Eden, I apologize in advance for my next string of questions, but Sage’s health depends on them.”
“Ask me whatever you need to.”
“Has your body begun to change for the babe? Have you started producing milk yet?”
Heat floods my face so fast I go dizzy. Damien clears his throat and walks toward the marsh.
“I—” My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. “Well, sort of. But it’s not milk.”
Therael’s head tilts in interest.
“It’s nectar. It started during Sage’s rut. And I produce more when we’re… close.”
Therael glances at Sage.
“He was drinking it, wasn’t he? Shortly after he started nesting?”
My face is burning with embarrassment, but Sage’s chest is barely moving, and I am not going to be the reason he gets worse.
“Yes,” I say, lifting my chin. “Both he and Ashán are very drawn to it.”
“All hybrids are drawn to the liquid their mates produce during pregnancy. Especially fertility creatures,” he reassures me. “This is completely normal, Eden. And nothing you have to be embarrassed about.”
I nod.
“When is the last time he consumed some?”
“A few days ago—we started, but things got interrupted, and we’ve barely touched since.”
Therael pinches the bridge of his nose.
“He did not close the loop,” he whispers under his breath. “Oh, you beautiful, foolish boy.”
“Close what loop?”
“The sael’níva,” Therael murmurs as he reaches out to touch the edge of Sage’s flaking shoulder. (Nectar-binding) “Sage is a creature of growth. His biology is built on cycles. When your body began producing the nectar, Sage’s roots naturally reached for it.”
He pauses, looking up to make sure I’m following.
“But a tree cannot hold a torrential downpour in its branches, Eden. The water has to move. That sweetness was never meant to just sit inside him. It was meant to pass through him and be returned right back into you, skin to skin, grounding you both. When that circle stays unbroken, it is a beautiful thing. It feeds not only your mate but the baby. It regulates his magic, and everyone flourishes.”
“Are you saying that when I pulled away, I made him sick?”
“You did not know,” he says immediately, his eyes swimming with an empathy of his own.
“But when you pulled away, that magic had nowhere to go, so it began feeding on Sage’s reserves just to keep his core alive.
His fever is spiking because his magic is wilting.
It is the same way a plant strips its own leaves to keep the root alive in a sudden frost.”
I stare at Sage’s slumped frame, my hand trembling on his arm. “He didn’t tell me. He could have just told me what he needed.”
“He didn’t know, Eden,” Therael corrects, rising to his feet and smoothing down his robes.
“He has only been awake a little over a year. He has no map for a hybrid pregnancy or what his body is supposed to feel like. He likely thinks he is just exhausted from the Horsemen and the strain of Ashán withdrawing. And knowing him, he decided that falling apart quietly was better than frightening you.”
A sob escapes me. “How do I fix it?”
“You close the loop,” he says simply. “His magic needs a path back into you. And his bond needs to feel that you are choosing him—not out of guilt or sympathy—but because you want him. His body will not accept what his mind cannot believe.”
The golden shimmer of Therael’s departure ripples through the air, leaving behind a quiet breeze.
His body will not accept what his mind cannot believe.
“Okay,” I whisper, though I’m not sure who I’m saying it to. “Sage.” I cup his face with both hands. His skin feels like a literal furnace against my palms. “Vaelí, can you wake up for me? Just for a second.”
A painful groan escapes him. His eyelashes flutter open, his glazed eyes straining to focus on my face.
“Eden…?”
“Oh, thank God!” I gasp. My heart hammers in my chest. “I need you to help me get you onto the ground. Okay?”
He lets out a shallow, raspy breath, his feet dragging weakly in the dirt as his knees give out. He’s too big for me to brace, so instead of fighting his weight, I let myself slide off the stone bench with him, guiding his broad shoulders down until we both crash into the thick grass.
He lands heavily on his back, his long legs tangled awkwardly beneath him. His head rolls to the side, his chest heaving from exertion. The meadow responds. Grass curls up around him, cradling his shoulders.
“I’m going to help.”
“Saevúra,” he slurs, barely a sound at all. “M’fine. Just need… to rest.”
“You’re not fine.” My voice cracks. “And it’s my fault. I didn’t know, Sage. I swear I didn’t know—”
The tears come before I can stop them, dropping onto his gray cheeks. “But I’m going to make it better.”
I swing one of my legs over his waist so that I’m straddling his lap. Sage’s breath catches, his hands twitching where they rest in the grass.
“Eden…” he rasps. A sliver of warning bleeds through his voice as he tries to move. “Don’t… M’too hot. I’ll burn you.”
“Let me burn then,” I whisper, reaching for the hem of my dress. I pull it over my head and let it fall onto the grass next to us. The spring air kisses my bare skin, raising goosebumps along my arms. His glazed eyes struggle to focus on me, níva already sliding down my chest.
I take his trembling hands, so hot they’re almost painful, and I press them against the curve of my waist.
He hisses at the contact, a full-body tremor rolling through him.
“Eden—” he chokes.
“Feel that?” My thumbs stroke over his knuckles. I slide his hands down to my hips. “I’m not burning. I’m right here, and I’m going to cool you down.”
His fingers flex involuntarily against my skin, his thumbs pressing into the dip of my hip-bone.
“You’re so cool,” he breathes in delirium. “Like rain, Saevúra.”
“I am,” I whisper, leaning down until my lips brush over his. “I’m your rain, Vaelí.”
His lips are slack against mine. I can feel the desperate flex of his muscles, but his body won’t cooperate.
“It’s okay. Let me do the work.”
I kiss him slowly, nectar sliding down my chest and dripping onto his bare skin. I trail kisses down the sharp line of his jaw, his thready pulse fluttering beneath my lips.
“Eden,” he rasps. “I can’t—I want to—please.”
“I know,” I murmur, sliding my hand between us as I sit back up. His cock is already slick, pressing against the inside of my thigh. I grind slowly, letting the length of him rub between my swollen lips. Each movement causes more níva to leak from my nipples.
“I want you, Sage… I have always wanted you.”
I rise up on my knees, positioning him at my entrance, and slowly sink down.
“I need you to wake up, so you can touch me,” I moan as he stretches me, my walls fluttering around his shaft as I start to rock my hips in slow circles. The petals of his bloom-collar weakly reach for me, brushing lightly over my clit.
“Wake up, Sage,” I whimper, rolling my hips harder, riding him with desperate bounces. “I need your hands on me.”
His cock twitches inside me, swelling thicker as I clench around him.