To Bleed a Crystal Bloom by Sarah A. Parker
Idescend the grisly, obsidian steps cut into the vertical cliff that leads to Bitten Bay, soft squeaks protesting from my bag every time it bumps against my thigh. Stony Stem stands sentry in the sky, casting a long, slender shadow across the pale ocean.
When I’m almost at the bottom I leap, landing ankle-deep in black sand that seems to gobble up the light. The gentle breeze salts my skin as my eyes sweep shut, and I’m lulled by the soft lap of waves, picturing myself as a plant delving its roots into the silky sand ...
Why anyone wears shoes, I’ll never understand. They cut you off from this.
When I open my eyes again, they’re instantly drawn to a perfectly round rock nesting on the shoreline, as if the ocean just offered me a gift.
Smiling wide, I dash forward and pick it up, imagining all the things I can paint on its smooth surface while tucking it in my knapsack for safe keeping.
I jog toward the cove’s right hook without even looking at the long, wooden pier across the bay that’ll finally see some use when Rhordyn hosts the ball; something I’m trying not to think about since I’m currently evading a dress fitting.
The rocks are the same color as the sand, though less forgiving on the naked soles of my feet. Luckily, I know where to step so they can’t sink their teeth in too far.
I’m nearing the water’s edge when a familiar head pushes above the froth, white hair slicked back from the sharp angles of his face.
“Treasure? You never come down here at this time,” Kai says by way of greeting, voice deep and silky.
The constant, invisible pulse that echoes off him gently taps my skin like little bursts of air. I call it his beat, and I can always tell exactly how Kai feels by the way it interacts with me.
I swing my bag off my shoulder and lower it to the rocks, pulling the length of my hair forward and playing with the end. “Don’t I?”
His eyes narrow and his long, silver tail slithers beneath the surface as he slides forward. “What are you avoiding?”
“A gown fitting.” I dust off my pants and shrug. “Don’t look at me like that, I hate dresses.”
“Oh, I’m aware. I clearly remember you ordering me to stuff a poofy number at the bottom of a chasm so you’d never have to look at it again. What ... ten years ago? Seven? Five? I lose track.”
Last time I attended a Tribunal.
I’m all for outfits that smudge my shape, but I could barely fit through the door in that thing. There wasn’t a single pair of eyes it didn’t draw.
Dropping to a crouch, I pick a piece of seaweed from his hair and flick it away. “You look good in frills. Me ... not so much.”
“I don’t believe you. And I saw you pluck something off the beach. What was it?”
“I did!” I pull the perfectly round rock from my knapsack and brush off the sand. “Look at this glorious sight. Have you ever seen a rock so smooth?”
He takes it from my hand, examines it from all angles, then scrunches up his nose. “Not my favorite.”
I gasp. “Take that back!”
His liquid laugh ripples over the water, and I roll my eyes, snatching the stone. I retrieve the fat, red apple and wave it through the air, causing Kai’s laughter to stop.
Instantly.
He follows the movement like a charmed serpent, eyes dazzling emeralds caught in the sun ...
Hypnotized.
“I’m sorry,” he pleads. “I love you, and your treasure hunting skills are just as glorious as your perfectly smooth rock.”
“That’s ... a fantastic apology.”
I toss the apple, and he’s so swift to whip it from the air that all I see is a blur of motion.
“Be right back,” he spouts before diving in a churn of steely scales and long, rippling frills. He returns a minute later, empty-handed, apple stashed somewhere beneath the glossy ocean surface.
Head cocking to the side, he drifts closer, fixated on my now cupped hands as if he can sense the treasure tucked within. “What do you have there?” His beat taps against my fingers—a gentle, inquisitive nudge for me to unfurl them.
Chewing my bottom lip, cheeks blazing, I open my hands and push the object toward him.
His eyes widen—whirlpools caught in a globe. “Is this—”
“The rock you gave me last week? Yeah,” I murmur, sitting. “I, ahh ... I painted it for you.”
His beat stops, as if it just choked on a breath.
He stares at me for long enough that I start to sweat, so I grab his hand and stuff the rock into his palm, then watch my own hands mash together. “To get the right tone of red, I had to use a little blood. A bit archaic, I hope you don’t mind. And the paint is actually waterproof. You know that tree milk I told you about? The stuff that leaks off the wood when I peel the bark off a rubber tree? I mixed some of that with my regular blend. So yeah, the paint repels wa—”
He clears his throat and I glance up, getting caught in the glaze of his eyes.
My rambling thoughts stutter to a stop.
He’s never looked at me with such reverence before ...
“Kai?”
“It’s ... the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he whispers, turning his attention to the rock.
He once spoke of an island he holds close to his heart—said it’s made up of big, iridescent rocks with millions of smaller ones crumbled around the shore. That a geyser leaks a ribbon of blood-red liquid into the mirror of water surrounding the place.
“I hope I got it right.”
“It’s perfect.” He traces the glittery shore with the tip of his finger. “Thank you, Orlaith. Truly. It would have taken days to paint such a treasure ...”
I roll the hem of my pants and swing my legs into the chilly sea, tilting my face to the sun, eyes closed. “You’re my best friend.” My nonchalant tone masks the fact that I’m speaking around a lump in my throat the size of an acorn. “I’d do anything for you.”
“Be right back,” he calls, and I open my eyes to see him disappear with a splash, leaving me alone with the warm, sleepy day that’s reflecting off the ocean in fractals.
I smile, remembering the many times I’ve heard those three words before Kai’s darted below the surface to stash something away. Being an Ocean Drake, he can’t fight the urge to bank his treasures at his earliest convenience, even if it means momentarily breaking away from such riveting company.
He’s like an ocean broom—the ultimate collector of things that’ll probably never see the light of day again. I picture a large, underwater cavern brimming with a king’s bounty, and the mental image of him dusting all those trinkets clean with his long, billowy tail has my grin widening.
Kai’s head breaks the surface, and he lifts a hand, smiling. “I have something for you, also.”
My brows knit.
Pinched between his thumb and forefinger is a dainty shell that twists around itself in a delicate swirl of pink and opaline. It has a silver ring pierced through its lip, and attached to that is a latch no bigger than my pinkie nail.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “What sort of shell is it?”
The only ones that wash up here are gray, rugged cups the size of my hand, their inside scoop a dazzling mix of purples, blues, and pinks. Ground down, I use them to make a metallic paint that glimmers like a haunted rainbow.
“A baby conch,” he answers with glee, washing me in his rich, briny scent as he glides forward. Clipping the charm to the silver chain around my neck, he settles it next to the big, black stone I’ve always worn. “The small ones usually get broken against the rocks, so this was a rare find, Orlaith. Very rare.”
I look down, toying with it, loving the way it tinkles against my gem; two treasures, opposite yet so perfect together.
“They’re sea whisperers. If you speak into the hollow, the ocean will carry the message. So if you ever need me ...”
“I love it,” I blurt, catching his stare. A smile splits his face like the crest of a glistening wave curling toward the sun—there one minute ... gone the next.
His nostrils flare, gaze dropping to my right leg. “You’re bleeding,” he murmurs. “What have you gone and done this time?”
Why all the men in my life seem so caught up on my lacerated skin, I’ll never know.
“Cut myself during training.” I shrug, still toying with my shell. “It’s not major. I was supposed to get it looked at, but I got busy with other things.”
His smile is all teeth—sharp canines exposed in their full, feral glory. “Lucky for you,” he purrs with a mischievous lilt to his words, “I’m somewhat gifted at healing wounds.”
I lift a brow.
He rolls my hem further, revealing the messy slice across my thigh, only barely missing my heart-shaped birthmark.
Well.
“Admittedly, that’s worse than I thought it wa—” Kai tips forward and sweeps his tongue down my raw wound in a warm, wet caress. “Whatare you doing?”
All the blood in my body seems to rush to my cheeks.
“You’re licking me. You’re licking my cut.”
He makes this amused, muffled sound, continuing to paint my hurt with long, precise swipes. By the time he pulls back, my cheeks are aflame, though all that heat swiftly drains away as both sides of the laceration knit together, leaving a pale pink line.
I stare at it, mouth full of words and no breath to speak them.
My surprise ebbs when I glance up and see the way he’s looking at me—brow creased while he smacks his tongue against the top of his mouth.
“What?”
He shakes his head, swallowing. “You taste weird.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say! I bet you don’t taste great either,” I chastise, tossing a scoop of water at him. “And by the way, now that I know you can lick my wounds away, I’ll be down here every time I get a paper cut, stuffing my finger in your mouth.”
I can’t believe he didn’t tell me this sooner.
A smirk softens the sharpness of his bladed cheekbones. “Stuff your finger in my mouth whenever you like, but starting a water fight with me? Orlaith, that was terribly unwise.”
He rises out of the ocean one foreboding inch at a time, revealing the long, powerful slant of his sun-kissed muscles. My mouth pops open, head tipping back, eyes widening as toffee skin gives way to the round, steely scales of his mighty tail.
Shit.
I scuttle back like a crab seeking shelter. “No, Kai ... no. No! Don’t you dare, you big, slippery hellion—”
His arm sweeps out, and he whips me against his cold, wet chest, then dunks us both into the brisk sea.
The bastard.