“Oh gods, is Mycor horrified? Did he hate it? Did I—did I take advantage of him? Of you? Was it awful?”
Her throat tightened, words tripping over each other. “Because I thought—Ithoughtyou liked it. You said things—you touched me like—” She broke off, shaking her head. “But if I misunderstood, if it was just obligation?—”
Her voice cracked. “Tell me I didn’t screw this up. Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”
Splice’s brows drew together. “Goldie,” he started quietly. “I?—”
She clamped both hands over her mouth, as if she could physically stop the panic from spilling out, but the tears came anyway, hot and ridiculous. Her breath came in shallow, quivery pulls.Of course. Of course he said he enjoyed it. Because his god is hurting. Because that’s what he does—he serves. Gods, how stupid am I?
“I’m sorry, Splice.” Her whisper was raw. “I didn’t think. We can find another way. We don’t?—”
He looked at her, and something fragile and heartbreakingly human flickered across his face. Then he leaned in, slow and deliberate, and cupped her cheeks in both hands. “No, beautiful one,” he murmured. “No, you misunderstand. Hush, now. Don’t cry.”
“So you don’t hate me?” she whimpered.
He laughed. “Hate you? If what we did together is your idea of hate, then I am doomed. Because showing you how much Idon’thate you may very well kill me. Pleasurably, mind you, but still kill me.”
Goldie blinked through her tears, the panic loosening into something absurd and warm at the edges. He was teasing. He was not recoiling. She let out a shaky laugh and leaned into his hands, feeling ridiculous and relieved all at once.
“Sorry. It’s just that the wholecan we talkthing got me discombobulated,” she burbled, words tumbling over themselves. “Not really a great way to start conversations. Human thing, you see.”
His voice dipped, warm and steady. “Has anyone ever told you you’re absolutely ridiculous?”
“Many times,” she shot back, her voice wobbling on a rogue sniffle.
He laughed again, the sound quiet but real. His arms came around her, drawing her close. She sagged into him, the tension unwinding at last.
“Mycor and I had a long conversation,” Splice said slowly. “It’s… different now, Goldie. All my existence I was only ever an extension of Mycor’s will. My thoughts were his. Our purpose was a shared root system.”
He slid a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face until their eyes met. “But then I met you, and everything changed. Now I feel not like awe,but anI.”
Goldie’s breath hitched, a small sound breaking from her throat.
“A graft isn’t meant to grow away from its god, but it isn’t unheard of. I don’t know why, but something in me shifted because of you, Marigold. With all this mess—Mycor bound to the Green Holdings, you bound to the Grove Core, and me…” He shook his head faintly. “I didn’t even realize it was happening at first. But the shape of who I am has completely changed.”
He stroked her cheek. “And yes, we performed the ritual together. And yes, it was for Mycor. But now…” He leaned closer, lips hovering a breath away from hers.
“It’s more than that, Goldie. Of course, I want to heal Mycor. But it’s more than that. I want…” His voice broke, eyes burning.
“I want you. The ridiculous, sparkly woman who confuses and captivates me. If the ritual is what’s needed, we’ll do it. But before we do, before anyone or anything gets in the way… I want you.”
His thumbs brushed her face as he spoke, each word roughened by feeling.
“You’ve lodged under my skin like a splinter, Marigold, and I don’t ever want to pull you out. I want to learn every inch of you: what makes you smile, what makes you laugh. I want to feel you under my hands without the weight of gods. I want to watch you lay out your tarot, wear your ridiculous clothes, and dote on those tiny terrors of yours. I’m not human—I don’t know how to be human—but you make me want to learn. I want to try. For you.”
Goldie’s breath caught again, tears springing hot and sudden to her eyes. For a moment she couldn’t speak at all. Her heart felttoo full, stretching wide and wild in her chest, singing straight toward him.
Her hand rose of its own accord, cupping his face. “Splice…” Her voice trembled, breaking on his name. “That’s… gods, that’s the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me.”
She pressed her forehead to his, tears spilling freely now, but they were shining, joyful tears. “And I want you too. Not as a ritual, not because of the Grove Core, not because of anyone’s god. I want you. Just you. The one who discombobulates me and makes me giddy and—” her voice cracked again, softer, aching—“the one who makes me feel like I’m finally home.”
He didn't say anything more. He simply kissed her again, a kiss that was soft and deep and held the unspoken promise of everything he had just laid bare. His arms wrapped around her, strong and steady, pulling her flush against him until the world outside faded into a distant, unimportant shadow.
From the corner of the room, a faint, indignant meow broke the quiet.
Goldie, still in the middle of an amazing kiss, sent an annoyed thought through her still-new familiar bond.
Go chase some mice, you two. Give a girl some privacy.
