Chapter 1: Blood and Petals
The path was little more than a scratch in the earth, winding between ancient oaks whose branches clawed at the amber sky. Mist pooled in the hollows, swallowing sound. Jess moved through it all with that lazy, floating grace of hers, a step ahead, her honey-toned hair catching the last of the sun like a halo set on fire.
Maylee followed, a half-step behind. Always. Her boots landed with deliberate thuds, a steady drumbeat synced to the rhythm of her own heart. The weight in her right pocket was a familiar comfort, the cool steel of the folding knife a silent promise against her thigh.
“It’s quieter out here than I thought,” Jess said, her voice a soft ripple in the stillness. She paused, tilting her head. Somewhere far off, an owl called, a low, lonely question.
“Just us,” Maylee said, and the words tasted like truth. Just us. How it should be. How it will always be. Her fingers brushed the sleeve of Jess’s sweater, just a ghost of contact. The wool was soft. She imagined it unraveling, thread by thread, and weaving it around her own wrist.
Jess stopped suddenly, crouching down beside a tangled patch of brambles at the trail’s edge. “Look,” she breathed, pointing.
A cluster of wild roses fought their way through the thorny mass, their petals a deep, bruised crimson in the fading light. Jess reached out, but Maylee was faster.
“Careful,” Maylee murmured, her voice all tender concern. “They’ll bite you.” She leaned in, her body caging Jess gently against the thicket. She could smell the clean scent of Jess’s shampoo, the faint, warm sugar of her skin. It was everything.
Her hand closed over the sturdiest stem. Thorns, needle-sharp and vicious, dug into her palm without hesitation. She didn’t flinch. She squeezed tighter, feeling the skin part, a bright, shocking sting. A single, perfect bloom came away in her grip.
She held it up, a dark jewel against the dusk. Blood welled from her punctured palm, a slow, thick trail that dripped onto the moss below. Plip. Plip.
“Maylee! You’re bleeding!” Jess’s green eyes widened, that beautiful, worried focus locking onto Maylee’s hand. She reached for it.
This was the point. This was always the point. The pain was nothing. It was a transaction. A few drops of blood for the press of Jess’s fingers, for the crinkle of her brow, for the absolute purity of her attention. Maylee smiled, slow and warm. “It’s nothing. Worth it for you to have the flower.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jess chided, her touch as gentle as Maylee knew it would be. She turned Maylee’s hand over, examining the wounds. Her thumb swept over the unmarred skin of the wrist. “They’re deep. You should pay attention.”
“I only pay attention to you.” The words slipped out, weighted and too honest.
Jess just laughed, a soft, airy sound. She shook her head, those feathery bangs sweeping her brows. “You’re such a drama queen. Here.” She rummaged in her small backpack with her free hand, still holding Maylee’s captive in the other. She produced a wrinkled tissue and pressed it to the wounds. “Hold that. And give me the rose before you stab yourself again.”
Maylee handed it over, her blood smearing the green of the stem. Jess took it, their fingers brushing. A spark, a current. Maylee watched, mesmerized, as Jess tucked the rose behind her own ear. The crimson looked violent against the honey of her hair. A claiming. A brand.
“There,” Jess said, satisfied. “Now let’s keep moving. I want to get to the overlook before the light’s completely gone.”
They walked on. Maylee curled her fingers around the bloody tissue, cherishing the ache. She replayed the touch on a loop in her mind.
The trees began to thin, the path sloping upward toward a rocky outcrop. The silence deepened, broken only by their footsteps and breath. It was perfect.
Then, a new sound. The crunch of gravel out of rhythm. A whistle, off-key and casual.
A man stepped onto the path from a smaller side trail, blocking the way to the overlook. He was dressed in expensive, too-clean hiking gear, his smile broad and empty. “Hey there,” he said, his eyes skipping over Maylee and landing on Jess. They stuck. “Lost? This trail can be tricky. I know the area pretty well.”
Jess offered a polite, closed-lipped smile. “We’re okay, thanks. Just heading to the overlook.”
“Great spot. Mind if I join you? Safer in numbers, you know?” His gaze traveled down Jess, lingering. “It’s a lonely walk back in the dark for a couple girls.”
Maylee felt it then—a tectonic shift inside her ribcage. A glacial calm settled over her, crystalline and absolute. The pleasant warmth she’d felt moments ago was incinerated, leaving only a cold, focused void. Her hand, nestled in her pocket, found the knife. The textured metal fit into her bleeding palm like a key slipping into a lock.
She slid forward, placing herself partially in front of Jess. Her movement was smooth, unhurried. “We’re not a couple of girls,” Maylee said, her voice quieter than the rustling leaves. It carried, though. It cut. “We’re two women. And we’re not lonely.”
The man’s smile didn’t falter; it just turned mean at the edges. He took a step closer, his size suddenly apparent. “Feisty. I like that.” He looked past Maylee, directly at Jess. “How about you, honey? You want a real guide? I can show you some… private views.”
Jess stiffened. Maylee didn’t need to look to feel it. That quiet tension in the air around her was a scream in their private language.
“She,” Maylee said, taking one deliberate step forward, closing the distance, “is with me.”
She said it flatly. A fact of the universe, like gravity or decay. The man finally looked at her, really looked. He saw the athletic build, the shoulders made for weight rooms and purpose. He saw the angelic face, now utterly devoid of any heavenly mercy. His confidence wavered for a fraction of a second.
That was all she needed.
“Come on, Jess,” Maylee said, not turning around. Her voice was sweet again, syrup over steel. “The light’s fading. We don’t want to miss it.”
She held the man’s gaze until he was the one to glance away, muttering something under his breath as he shuffled to the side of the path. Maylee guided Jess past him, her body a shield, her senses hyper-alert to every shift of his weight, every intake of his breath.
They climbed the last stretch to the overlook in a new silence. The valley spread below them, drowned in molten gold and deepening purple shadows. It was breathtaking.
Jess hugged herself, rubbing her arms. “He gave me the creeps. Thanks.”
“Always,” Maylee whispered. She stared out at the vast, darkening beauty, but she saw only the map of their walk back. The side trail he’d emerged from. The dense thickets. The growing dark.
The man had made a choice when he looked at Jess like that. He just didn’t know it yet.
Jess shivered again, this time from the cooling air. “Should we head back? It’ll be dark soon.”
“Soon,” Maylee agreed, her hand still in her pocket, curled around certainty. She smiled, gentle and reassuring. “Let’s just watch the last of the light. It’s so perfect here. Just us.”
She breathed in the pine-scented twilight, planning. The knife was quiet. She was quieter.