16. Let Yourself Blossom

sixteen

Let Yourself Blossom

Rainer

T he muscles in my stomach tighten, and pleasure zings through me as she presses her lips to mine in response. She reaches up, wrapping her arms around my neck to pull me closer.

I groan into her mouth, nibbling her bottom lip.

“Alessia…” I mutter, my lips drifting to her jaw, then down to her neck. I leave a trail of gentle kisses in my wake. “I’ve missed the way you taste.”

She grips my neck, tugging my mouth back to hers. I want to devour her, ravage her until she’s a writhing, screaming mess beneath me, but instead, I take it slow. I’ve mastered my beast—or rather, she’s tamed my monster.

And it’s the first time she’s kissed me since finding out about our bond.

She’s choosing this.

She’s choosing me .

About gods-damned time.

“Mo róisín,” I whisper against her lips. “My little rose.”

I pull back just enough to take her in. My hand slides to her cheek, carefully cupping it. The ragged tattoo running from her temple to her jaw looks harsh and angry compared to how sweet and soft her face is .

She gazes deeply into my eyes, allowing me to see the vulnerability she hides from the rest of the world. It’s a sensitivity reserved solely for me. Her grey eyes sparkle with hope and pain, and… fear.

It’s all too recognizable, and it lances my heart.

“I can’t,” she says, thrusting that invisible blade deeper into my chest and bleeding me out. “We can’t.”

She turns her head, chewing the inside of her lip as she fixes her gaze on the wall. Slowly, so as not to scare her, I kneel before her. Then, I reach up, gently grip her chin, and guide her gaze back to mine.

She’s been through so much in such a short time. She’s learned, loved, and lost more in a few months than most others have in a lifetime. Though I refuse to let her waste away into self-pity or sorrow like I once tried to do, I also don’t want to overstep or scare her.

I choose my words carefully before clearing my throat and breaking the silence.

“I can’t ignore that my heart beats for you,” I say. Her frown deepens, and I hate seeing such an expression on that heart-shaped face. “Even if you won’t let me have all of you, at least let me have a piece.”

My plea hangs in the air, heavy between us. Despite the sincerity in my voice, I can tell by the rigid set to her shoulders that she’s hesitant to give in, prisoner to the insecurities she won’t let me see.

I stand, returning to the chair to distance us so she doesn’t feel cornered by my presence. I’m aware I can be an intimidating male, and I never want her to feel threatened by me.

“I just… I need time.” With a sigh, she scoots deeper into the chair and tucks her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. Curled in on herself and shrunk down, she appears so small… so lost. “How did we get here? I’m home, but I’m all alone, Rainer.”

The words cut through me like my favorite pruning shears. “You’re never alone, mo róisín.”

The pain in her eyes is so recognizable. It’s a chronic pain I recognize all too well—it’s the very reason I loathe mirrors. I don’t like to see my reflection because the pain is a permanent sickness without a cure. It’s a shadow that never leaves my eyes, no matter how brightly they shine.

And I’d drain the last dredges of my happiness, pouring it into the cracks of her pain if only I could.

“I’m going to let everyone down.” Her voice wavers, and I ball my hand into a fist on my lap, fighting the urge to reach out and comfort her. “I’m a liability.”

She wears a haunted look that turns my heart to ash. She’s the purest being to walk this land, and that’s precisely why we need her. But telling her that is a pressure she doesn’t need. Instead, I tell her the more important truth: “You don’t owe the world anything, Alessia. You’re worthy as you are. You could never do or say anything to change that.”

“I can’t do anything right. It feels like there are two parts of me, and they’re at odds. One wants to do the right thing but only makes mistakes, and the other doesn’t care at all. It craves chaos and destruction. What does that make me?”

“It makes you… human ,” I say with a soft smile. “And fae.” I pause. “It makes you you. You’ve looked true evil in the face and put their fire out before it could burn anyone else. That’s a strength few can brag about.

She blinks rapidly, as if holding back tears, and her fingers pluck mindlessly at the hem of her shirt.

I lean back in my chair, watching her carefully. Something is going on with her. It’s more than the desire for space and time. She’s not figuring herself out or finding her confidence down here—she’s losing it. The fight in her eyes is diluted as if it’s slowly fading.

A wave of anger washes over me. Anger at the pixies for taking so long to retrieve me, anger at myself for leaving her alone for so long, anger at anyone and everyone who contributed to that sad look on Alessia’s face.

“No. Enough with this,” I say with fierce determination. Even the smallest piece of her is worth more than anything else, because even the smallest cuttings someday bloom into full plants. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll give you time, but I won’t give you space. I’m waiting right here.”

She shakes her her head. “I can’t ask you to wait for me, Rainer.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m telling you .”

Her body softens, but then her eyes widen. She shakes her head almost imperceptibly and then becomes rigid again.

I study her, wondering what internal battle she’s fighting.

There’s no way I’m returning to Umbra Court—or worse, leaving for Dovenak—while she’s in this state. I successfully provoked her fight before, and I can do it again, so help me gods.

“I’m afraid, Rainer,” she whispers.

My fingers tap my knee mindlessly, staying busy to avoid reaching for her. “What is it exactly that you fear? ”

Fear is my jurisdiction. Not only do I dole it out to others, but I experience my own in troves. My fears plague me in the form of nightmares. If anyone understands how crippling the terror can be, it’s me.

“Sometimes I wonder what the point is,” she says. “All I do is cause pain to others by existing. My magic thrives on harming others. I can’t live like this. I’ve been searching and searching for answers, a way to rid myself of this burden, but there aren’t any.”

My eyes flicker with darkening heat as I hold her stare. “No,” I growl. The muscles in my jaw tighten. “Don’t talk like that.”

“You don’t understand…” She plucks mindlessly at a tear in her leather armrest. “The thing inside me—” she says it with disgust, shuddering and sucking in a breath.

“You worry it’ll consume you—destroy that soft heart of yours,” I say softly.

She blinks in surprise, her hand stilling. “Yes… how do you know?”

I chuckle softly, my eyes crinkling at the corner. “Little rose, you know me better than that.”

As her face softens in recognition, the line etched into her forehead smooths out. Her lips, previously set in a firm line, curve upwards ever so slightly.

“You’re the one who made me realize I wasn’t the monster I feared I was,” I tell her. “You showed up out of nowhere, threw my world into chaos, and reminded me that I’m more than my past mistakes—more than my bloodlust. And I’m here to show you that you are more than your magic, too.”

“It’s not just losing myself that I fear.” She swallows heavily. “What if it hurts you ? ”

My amused smile grows. “What’s love without a little pain?”

She scrunches her nose, trying to give me an annoyed look, but it doesn’t work. It morphs into a smile, and it lights up her face briefly before melting. “I wasn’t very kind—with what I said before. About loving someone else when you don’t love yourself.” She flushes. “I’m sorry for that.”

Her human niceties tickle me. “It was true for you when you said it, and I don’t resent you for it. I became a better male because of you, and I can admit that I wasted much time hating myself. I don’t want the same to happen to you.”

“What if I can’t control it?”

“Then you embrace it.”

“But my shadow-self is… violent. And messy.” She sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s scary . I’m afraid of it.”

“Stop pushing me away. Let me help you learn it.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t. Not until I get better at controlling it.”

I tsk. “You don’t need to be flawless to be loved. You’re worthy, even on your worst days—especially on your worst days, because those are the hardest, yet you persevere.”

A tear slides down her cheek. “I’ve wasted so much time.” She leans her head back, staring up. “I’ve tucked myself away, isolating from all of you, and I’ve only backslid.”

“Stop pushing me away, and let me help you. You are my soul-bond, after all.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” She laughs humorlessly. “I need a lot of help right now, Rainer.”

“That’s the point,” I deadpan. “The point of a partnership is to have another pillar to support your load. Some days, you pick me up; some days, I pick you up, but no matter what, we have each other to lean on.”

She bites her lip, looking at me nervously. “I don’t know about—”

“Get the feck up.” I stand, reaching for her. “Now.”

Her eyes widen and her mouth parts slightly as she gazes up at me with shock. I know she’s probably stunned by my sudden brashness, but I can’t stand to see her in this fragile, self-pitying state a second longer. This isn’t her. Ironically, the fear of losing herself to her magic is the very thing that is causing her to lose herself.

“Get up,” I repeat, cocking a brow. Then, I smirk at her. “ Please .”

She finally snaps out of her stupor. Decisively, she places her hand in mine and entangles our fingers. I squeeze her and watch in delight as she melts beneath my touch.

I lead her out of the library and into the hall.

Ezamae is right again—it is reminiscent of a crypt down here. This surely can’t be healthy for Alessia.

“Where are we going?” she asks as I turn toward the main corridor.

“I want to show you something, but I’m also going to tell you something on the way.”

“Oh?”

“When I was little, I found out about my bloodlust in the worst of ways. I was just a faeling, and I didn’t know what was happening until I was attacking my father. Seamus was beating my mother—not for the first time—and it triggered my bloodlust. It was too much emotion for a young fae, especially one who didn’t know he was half-vampyr. And after I killed Seamus, the bloodlust wasn’t satisfied, and I turned on my mother…”

“Rainer,” Alessia breathes, tugging me to a stop. “You don’t have to share this.”

I release her hand, running it through my hair. Then, I force myself to meet her gaze. I expect to see pity there, but instead, she just looks so damn sad.

“I don’t tell you this to bring you down, Alessia. I tell you this because if you can look at me and see anything other than the monster I am, then why can’t you give yourself the same grace?”

She closes her eyes and takes a stuttering breath. “It’s not the—”

“If you dare say it’s not the same, then you’re being a hypocrite.” My tone is kind, not wanting to insult her. “I want you to realize that you shouldn’t punish yourself for being what you are.”

Her eyes reopen and she nods slowly. “It’s hard not to.”

“I know.” I reach for her hand, and we continue strolling as I talk. “After, I spiraled. Very much like you, I hid myself away, thinking I was better off alone. I was afraid of hurting others—of not being able to control my bloodlust. But Kenisius was there for me without judgment. The relentless fecker refused to leave me alone. He practically forced me to feed on him to stave off my bloodlust. And eventually, I learned to control it well enough.

“But when I met you, I worried all my work on self-control wasn’t enough. You provoked such strong emotions in me that I pulled away. I might not’ve ran physically, but I did mentally. I doubted myself until you showed me I shouldn’t.”

“But you still lost control at Eoin’s,” she whispers, wincing. “Not that you hurt me of course,” she hurries to add. “But your fears were warranted. ”

“Maybe, but that’s life, little rose. We can’t hide ourselves away to spare ourselves from making mistakes. We need to get out there and live , regardless of our fears. Don’t let life pass you by because you’re afraid of being imperfect.”

“You make it sound so simple,” she mumbles. “Except my shadow-self wants to kill others, Rainer. I’m not a murderer.”

“Then don’t be one. Don’t cling to that identity. It’s not what—or who—you are.”

“What if I hurt someone, though?”

I shrug. “I’d say they probably deserved it.”

She laughs at this, and I smile, relieved she’s softening.

We reach the back entrance to the kitchen, and I move behind Alessia, gently gripping her shoulders as we take in the scene.

Das Lulu, one of Umbra Court’s kitchen maids, chats animatedly with Sheila, the rescued Tradeling, as they slice vegetables at one of the long stone counters. The human girl towers over the fae, gangly and awkward as if she’s still learning how to use her body. Thick, black braids run down either side of her head, giving her a youthful appearance despite her height.

Leaning in close to her ear, I keep my voice soft. “What do you see?”

Alessia turns to me, giving me a confused smile. “Why is Sheila wearing that? I swear if you are messing with that poor girl—”

“No.” I chuckle. “She chose to wear that dress. It’s her favorite.”

I study the horrid purple ensemble that Sheila’s wearing. It’s the same one Alessia once wore to brunch with Eoin and Sennah. Only this time, it’s not a faerie prank.

“Das Celyn altered all of the clothing to fit Sheila properly—she has a variety of choices, but she wanted to wear that . ”

“Why?” Alessia asks, clearly baffled. “It’s hideous and inconvenient.”

“Because she likes it for whatever reason.” I shrug. “Either way, the girl is finding freedom in the small things. She expresses herself through clothing, baking, and painting—”

“She paints?” Alessia turns back to me, eyes lit up.

“Not well, but she does.”

Her smile grows.

“She’s a lot like you in many ways,” I add. “Now that she can be safe, she’s thriving.”

“Because of you,” Alessia says resolutely. “You saved her.”

“No.” I shake my head, my eyes softening as I gaze at her. “She’s here because you refused to forget about her or leave her behind.”

She tuts, shooting me a skeptical look. “You didn’t leave her either.”

I shrug a shoulder, stuffing a hand in my pocket so I don’t mindlessly reach for her and scare her away. “I might’ve rescued her from Dovenak, but you saved her.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she says.

“You gave her hope. You inspired her. And she’s not the only one.” I squeeze her shoulders, hoping she picks up on the meaning behind my words. “You give us all hope for a better future, Alessia.”

For a second, it feels as if she isn’t breathing as she ponders this.

“I didn’t realize…” she whispers.

I move beside Alessia, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb as I study her. “She asked to come here. She wants to stay here, Alessia—live at your court. ”

Sheila laughs at something Das Lulu says, tipping her head back. Once the laughter subsides, she shakes her head. Her gaze snags on us. A wide grin stretches across her face. She lifts a hand, waving vigorously at Alessia. Then, she reaches up and traces the dark jagged ink on the left side of her face. Alessia sucks in a sharp breath, and she mirrors the movement, reaching up and doing the same.

Her eyes glint with unshed tears, and for a second, I fear I’ve done the wrong thing and provoked more sorrow. But she blows out a shaky breath and turns to me, grabbing my hands.

“Thank you, Rainer,” she rushes out. “She looks so healthy. So happy. You did that.”

I shake my head. “No, little rose, she did that herself. She gave life a chance and allowed herself to find her joy because she thinks you did the same. She looks up to you.”

“She barely knows me,” she whispers.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s what you symbolize.”

The hope .

Growing up in the Trade, surviving the humans’ abuse, braving a new realm, facing the fae’s mischief—Alessia has done much without it fazing her.

She can’t let a hiccup with her power be the thing that stops her.

I place a finger under her chin and direct her gaze to mine. “Tap into your strength, little rose. Tap into your strength, embrace all versions of yourself, and let yourself blossom.”