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Forged by Malice

Bölüm 47 · 4 dk okuma

Forged by Malice

Bölüm 47

46

Dayton

“There he is!” I call, half-leaning out of the flower pod. “Farron!”

Farron stands on the edge of the glen, wandering like an idiot.

“I’ll get him,” Ezryn says. He spreads his palms, and the flower pod we’re in shifts off its

projected course. The petals unfurl to a staircase right before Farron. I hold out my hand.

Farron beams, and I pull him up. “Hey.”

The flower petal coils again, trapping us in a haze of pinkish light. It’s intimate inside this, like a

secret enclosure. There’s a small pool of nectar at the base of the pod. Stamen sprout forth, the

anthers giving off a soft light. The interior of the flower curls up like a bulb, but parts of it push out to

form a little seated area.

Currently, Ezryn and Rosie occupy that spot. After I finished my dance with Wrenley earlier, I’d

seen their pod swing by and took the chance to escape. Rosie couldn’t yell at me for not trying

anymore. Something terrible nags in my chest. Maybe the reason I’d been so resistant to dancing with

Wrenley was because Rosie is right. There is something there. Saving her in the river, the seashell

necklace... And there’s no way to deny how beautiful she is.

So, I did my duty. I danced, even though the whole time I felt every emotion inside me curling

inward. The only place I wanted to be was in this pod with Rosie and the metal lug.

And with Fare here, I never want to leave.

“I missed you,” he says, making his way to Rosalina. He pushes her on to her back and crawls on

top, sliding her dress up to grip her soft thigh.

“I tried to reach you, but I couldn’t,” she says.

“I’m here now.” Farron’s golden gaze catches mine. Then he stands, grabbing my pants and

tugging me closer. His tongue glides up my chest to my neck. “I missed you, too.”

“Fuck,” I growl, feeling my cock harden against the press of his hips. “What’s gotten into you,

huh?”

His eyes shine with an expression I can’t place. “Let’s just say I don’t want to take anything for

granted. Not you, or Rosie. Or you, Ez,” he calls over his shoulder. Ez tilts his helm in

acknowledgement.

I grab Farron’s chin. “Everything okay?”

“It will be.” He kisses me roughly.

Rosie watches us with a hungry gaze. The night Farron and I shared her comes to the forefront of

my mind. “Ez, is there a way to stop these flower rooms from, uh, blooming?”

“Yes,” Ezryn says. “Why?”

Farron reaches between my legs and grasps my cock. “I don’t want this to open,” I pant, “while

anyone is in a compromising situation.”

“Oh.” Ezryn looks between the three of us. “I should go.”

Rosie’s eyes widen, and she crawls over to Ezryn, putting a palm on his shoulder plate. “You can

leave if you like. But I want you to stay.”

Farron turns, hair tangled, eyes glassy. “Stay, Ez.”

“Come on, Ez, listen to the girl. Charm her.” I smirk at him. “Tell her, ‘Let me fill you with my

pollen’, or some such Spring poetry.”

Of course, I can’t see his expression, but I feel like he’s rolling his eyes. He curses something in a

dialect of Spring that I don’t understand, then presses his palm against the outside petals. They ripple

and the top closes in tighter around us.

Rosalina looks at me. The question wavers in the sweet-scented air. What about us? There hasn’t

been a single moment that’s passed where I haven’t thought of how it felt to be inside her. Mate out

there or not, there’s no fucking way I can have Rosalina only once.

“What about it, Blossom?” I ask. “I played your game. Socialized. Maybe there’s someone out

there I belong to. But in here, all I want is you. Stars above, in this damned flower, let me belong to

you.”

Her lip trembles as she looks up at me, then stands. Her gaze quickly passes over Ezryn and

Farron, who are watching her just as spellbound as I am.

Rosie reaches behind her back and pulls on a single long ribbon, and in a whoosh of fabric, the

dress falls around her ankles. But she’s not naked. A lacy brassiere with a rim of flowers holds her

breasts, and hugging her hips is a petticoat with layer upon layer of frills.

Her voice is a breathy rasp as she looks at me and says, “So, make me yours.”

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