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Mine?

No. That word feels wrong. Not mine.

Chosen. All of us.

I reach for Ezra. This time he comes.

His hand slides into mine. The second our fingers touch, his mark burns.

SOWN.

My body reacts. Not the Harvest.

Me.

I know the difference now.

Heat.

Want.

The ache I've been carrying since that first fucking mask.

Ezra feels it. His pupils blow wide.

“Still want me?” I whisper.

His laugh is broken. “You have no idea.”

“Then show me.”

He kisses me.

Finally!

Fuck.

His hand goes into my hair.

Mine grips his shirt.

The entire field reacts.

Flowers bloom.

The Witnesses gasp.

The Harvest roars.

I kiss him harder.

Fuck you.

Let it watch.

Ezra pulls away first, pressing his forehead against mine.

“Sage.”