The Bloom

The ambulance ride was quiet, save for the hum of the tires.

Julian was strapped to a gurney in the second ambulance, raving about flower people.

In the back of the first ambulance, Silas sat with a blanket over his shoulders. The paramedics had treated the dart wound.

Iris sat opposite him, still wearing the ruined wedding dress.

Silas reached out. He took her hand. His grip was tight, desperate.

"I thought I lost you," he said. His voice was steady now, the drug wearing off.

"You almost did," Iris said. "But not to him."

She squeezed his hand. "Silas, we can't go back to the way it was. The separate rooms. The silence. I can't do it."

"We won't," Silas said. He pulled her off the bench, onto his lap. He wrapped his massive arms around her, burying his face in her neck. He inhaled the scent of her—rain, earth, and life.

"I love you," he murmured against her skin. "I have loved you since the day you walked into the academy with your books and your terrified eyes. I am obsessed with you, Iris. And I am done hiding it."

Iris pulled back to look at him. She traced the line of his jaw.

"Good," she said. "Because I don't want a roommate, Silas. I want a husband. Even the scary parts."

Silas kissed her then. It wasn't gentle. It was hungry, possessive, and terrifyingly intense. It was a claim.

"Let's go home," he said against her lips.

"To the penthouse?"

"No," Silas said. "Home. Wherever you are."

As the ambulance sped through the rainy streets of Ravenscroft, Iris looked out the window. The city was still dark, still dangerous. But for the first time, she didn't feel like fragile ivy clinging to a rock. She felt like the bloom that had finally broken through the stone.