Page 8 of Beneath the Desert Bloom (Of Beasts and Bloom #1)

“Most people think it’s a myth,” Opal said. “An urban legend. But it’s older than the stories. And he’s not waiting for belief. He’s waiting for someone who stays. He doesn’t mark just anyone.”

“Why me?”

The woman tapped the photo with one ring-heavy finger. “Because you came back. Because the land remembers. Or maybe because he does.”

Nora’s pulse jumped, a hot rush under her skin.

“He was meant to watch,” Opal said, her voice low. “But the land changed him. Turned him wild.”

The obsidian stone buzzed against Nora’s thigh like a second heartbeat.

“He’s real,” she whispered.

Opal gave her a look like she’d said the sky was blue. “He’s been waiting.”

She looked at Nora for a long moment, then added:

“Just don’t wait too long to choose. The land gets impatient.”

Nora left with the stone buzzing in her pocket, and her head spinning.

Outside, the heat slammed into her. She blinked at the sky, then back at the door.

Okay, weird shop lady. Sure. Guardian monsters and desert magic. Because therapy was too mainstream.

But why did it feel…real?

She didn’t go back to the house.

Instead, she lingered at the reopened diner, half-eaten huevos rancheros on a plate in front of her while Gloria eyed her like she already knew everything.

Nora didn’t offer explanations. What could she say, that the wind spoke in riddles now?

That a man made of bark and shadow had touched her in her sleep?

That an old woman in a magic shop just told her she might be part of a cosmic desert mating ritual?

She stirred her coffee, watching the swirl of cream bloom and disappear.

“I ran into someone earlier,” she said after a moment. “A ranger. Out near the wash. Car stalled, and he just… appeared.”

Gloria didn’t look surprised. “Morales. I figured he might find you.”

“So he’s real? Not just another desert hallucination? Because I seem to be having plenty.”

“Depends who you ask.”

Nora raised an eyebrow.

Gloria leaned back in her chair, the vinyl seat creaking softly. “Some folks say he died out there years ago. Others say he just works for the land now. Never aged, never left. Just keeps an eye on things.”

Nora blinked. “That’s... comforting.”

Gloria gave a dry chuckle. “He doesn’t show up for just anyone.”

Nora didn’t reply right away. Just picked up her fork and took another bite, even though her stomach was still somewhere back at Moondust.

Gloria poured her a fresh cup of coffee without asking. “You look like someone who’s starting to believe her own questions.”

Nora smiled faintly, gaze still on the window. “Something like that.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, two women in a nearly empty diner, sunlight slanting through a dusty pane.

Then Nora reached for her bag and stood, slower this time. Less like she was leaving. More like she was turning a page.

She wandered the dusty streets, let the sun burn her bare shoulders, let the desert settle deeper under her skin. She felt the presence of the map in her back pocket with every step. Her stone thrummed like a second pulse. Everything was a sign now. Or nothing was.

She hated that she couldn’t tell the difference.

Her boots scuffed along cracked pavement. A roadrunner darted past a sagging fence post. The wind picked up, hot and sharp, whispering like it had something to say.

Maybe she was losing it.

Maybe the grief, the silence, the solitude were finally sinking teeth into her brain.

God, she didn’t even know anymore.

She paused in the middle of the road, squinting toward the far hills. They shimmered like a mirage. No signs. No answers. Just that same strange pull, growing louder every time she tried to ignore it.

She dragged a hand through her hair and muttered, “Jesus, Nora. If this ends with you marrying a tree spirit, I swear to god.”

But she was already walking toward her car.

Nora pressed a palm to her chest, felt her heart hammering like it was trying to outrun her thoughts. She exhaled.

The sun was brutal.

But the desert was already under her skin.

She drove west, into the darkening teeth of the desert.

The ranger’s cryptic warning looped in her head.

The desert knew you were coming back. It doesn’t waste time on the wrong people. And it doesn’t give them back, either.

The road ended sooner than she expected. The sky bled out its last color, and she parked at the edge of Hollow Wash. The sun slipped behind the ridge line, and the world held its breath.

She didn’t know what she was doing. Only that she had to be here.

The air pressed against her skin, warm and heavy, and every nerve felt tuned to something she couldn’t see.

The trail pulled at her. Her breath quickened and became shallow. Her pulse fluttered in her throat.

She reached the Hollow Watcher and laid a hand on its scorched surface. It was warm, like flesh and heat, like a body.

A wind picked up, curling around her ankles, lifting her hair. The world seemed to dim around her as the air filled with electricity.

She turned slowly.

And saw him.

Not a dream. Not a trick of heat.

A huge figure, part shadow, part man, or something resembling man.

He stood half-shrouded behind a row of leaning Joshua trees and boulders.

His frame was enormous, broad across the chest, shoulders like stone slabs.

The last light of day licked across his skin, bark-colored, ridged and alive with texture, glowing in the cracks.

His hair spilled in dark waves over his collarbones, and his eyes burned gold, cutting through the dusk.

Nora’s breath caught. Her whole body went still, every inch of her skin aching like it wanted to lift toward him. Her heart slammed against her ribs. A low thrum gathered deep in her core, that same hot ache from her dreams, raw and undeniable.

He didn’t move, but she thought she saw his eyes soften as he looked at her.

The air between them shifted, becoming dense, humming, alive with some electric current that crawled over her skin, making her nipples tighten under her shirt, her thighs press together. Of course her body would react before her brain.

He tilted his head, watching her.

He wasn’t animal. He wasn’t human.

She wanted to speak, but all that came out was a breathy, ragged whisper.

“Who are you?”

He didn’t answer. But the way his gaze moved over her felt like he was memorizing her, mapping every inch of her skin without touching it.

His hand rose, like he was gently reaching out to her, almost longingly. His fingers brushed a low branch, slow and deliberate. Her breath hitched.

She took a single step forward, without really choosing to. The ground felt soft beneath her boots. The air was thick and sweet, tasting of sage and heat and the faintest tang of her own sweat.

Her skin tingled everywhere he wasn’t touching, the same energy from her dreams, but now it pressed against her from the outside.

Then, a sound. A long, warbling howl cracked the silence. A coyote, distant but sharp. It cut through the spell, making her flinch.

She looked away. Just for a heartbeat.

And when she looked back, he was gone.

The air snapped cold, like a window slammed shut.

She rushed to where he’d stood, fell to one knee and pressed her palm to the dirt. It was hot. Still radiating warmth, like he’d been carved from fire and left his mark on the world.

Her breath shuddered out of her. The desert felt thinner now, as if it opened a curtain just long enough for her to see behind it.

He was real.

And he’d let her see him.

Just enough to want more.