Page 25

CLARA

T he moon hangs low, casting a silvery glow over the Grove.

The air is heavy with the scent of blooming flowers and the promise of something new.

Thorn and I stand in the heart of the sacred circle, our bodies close, our breath mingling.

His eyes, deep and luminous, lock onto mine, and the world falls away.

There’s only the two of us, and the ancient magic that binds us to this place.

He doesn’t speak, words are unnecessary.

His fingers trace the curve of my cheek, gentle yet urgent.

I lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin, the rough texture of his fingertips.

His lips find mine, soft at first, then with growing intensity.

I respond with a longing I didn’t know I possessed, my arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

Our kiss deepens, and I can feel the pulse of the Grove resonating through us.

The ground beneath us is a bed of vibrant moss, cushioning our descent as Thorn lowers me down.

Running my hands through his hair, I marvel at the way the moonlight dances across his features, highlighting the delicate network of vines that trace his skin.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the symphony of rustling leaves and distant night creatures.

He smiles softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

His hands skim my curves, his touch aflame with a desire that is both primal and tender.

I gasp as he lifts my shirt, trailing kisses along the exposed skin.

Every sensation is heightened; every nerve is electrified.

His breath is hot against my stomach, and I arch into him, craving more.

Slowly, methodically, we undress each other, our movements deliberate yet filled with urgency.

Clothes fall away, pooling around us like fallen petals.

I catch my reflection in his eyes—a wild, untamed version of myself I’ve never seen before.

We’re bare before each other, in every sense of the word.

I guide his cock inside me with a gasp, the world narrowing to the exquisite sensation of our bodies joining.

He moves with a rhythm that feels as old as the Grove itself, each thrust a testament to our connection.

My back presses into the earth, grounding me, as if the very soil is a participant in our union.

Our moans mingle, becoming part of the night’s symphony.

Each movement is a revelation, a slow unfurling of pleasure that builds like a crescendo.

The night around us is suffused with an electric warmth, charged with our shared desires.

Thorn’s voice, low and gravelly, calls my name like a prayer.

I respond with a moan, arching into him, feeling the fullness of him inside me, completing me in ways I never knew possible.

“Clara,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re perfect.”

I weave my fingers through his, pressing our palms against the earth. I can feel the life of the Grove pulsing beneath us, its magic seeping into our skin, binding us to each other and to this place.

Thorn lowers his head, his lips claiming mine once more, and I taste the sweetness of nectar on his tongue. The sensations are overwhelming—his body moving in perfect harmony with mine, the softness of the moss against my bare skin, the melody of the night around us.

“Thorn,” I say, my voice a breathless plea. “I…”

He grips me tighter, his body moving faster, driving me toward the edge of oblivion. Words fail me as the pleasure builds, coiling tight in my core, until I’m shaking in his arms, my body convulsing with ecstasy.

Biting my lower lip to stifle a cry, I hear Thorn’s answering groan as he finds his own release. Our bodies remain joined, the heat of us mingling with the cool night air. He collapses onto me, his weight welcome and grounding. The world spins around us, the stars above twinkling in agreement.

I run my fingers through his hair, feeling the subtle texture of the vines intertwined with his strands. He sighs contentedly, nuzzling my neck.

“You are more than I could have ever hoped for,” he murmurs, kissing my collarbone.

I smile, my body still humming with pleasure. “And you’re more than I ever imagined.”

We lie there in silence for a while, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the sounds of the Grove painting a peaceful backdrop to our thoughts. The world beyond this circle fades into insignificance, and for a fleeting moment, everything feels perfect.

After a timeless moment, Thorn’s weight shifts, and he rolls to the side, not breaking contact. We lie on the soft moss, the whisper of the Grove all around us. I can feel the cool night air on my sweat-slicked skin, but the warmth of Thorn's body beside me is a comforting contrast.

I close my eyes, but the afterglow of pleasure keeps them flickering open to savor this moment. The moonlight bathes Thorn's form in silver, and I trace the lines of his tattoos with trembling fingers.

"It's so beautiful here," I murmur, my voice husky. "Every plant, every leaf seems to have its own story."

Thorn’s fingers intertwine with mine, and he brings my hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle with tenderness. "They do. This Grove is ancient, and every root, every blossom is steeped in history."

"I want to hear them all," I say. "Your stories, theirs... everything."

He smiles, and it's like watching a shadow lift. "You already know so much, Clara. More than most humans ever will."

"But there's so much more to learn," I insist, turning to face him. "The way the plants communicate, how they respond to each other... I've spent my life studying them, but I feel like I've just scratched the surface."

Thorn props himself up on one elbow, gazing down at me. "They're like any community—full of intricate relationships and complexities. But you have a gift for understanding them. I saw that from the moment you arrived."

I blush, not used to praise like this. "They just make so much more sense to me than people do. Perhaps that's why I've always felt more at home with plants."

Thorn's expression softens. "Sometimes, plants are far more straightforward. They don't hide their intentions."

My laugh bubbles up, surprising me. "Unlike people, who often hide everything until it's too late."

"Or until they're forced to reveal themselves," Thorn says, his voice low and rough.

My laughter fades, replaced by a sobering thought. "Is that what I did to you? Forced you out of the shadows?"

He shakes his head. "No. You didn't force anything. You...invited me in."

"Good," I say, reaching up to caress his cheek. "Because I don't want to lose this. Any of this."

The moment hangs between us. Thorn brushes a strand of hair from my face, his eyes full of unspoken promises. "Neither do I."