The inhabitants on either side of the alley had gone to some effort to beautify the place. Boxes and barrels of flowering plants lined the path. Greenery climbed the stone walls, dotted with the occasional rose or speedwell. Humans did this sort of thing: adding decoration to places for no practical reason. It didn’t conceal them from predators or attract mates. Yet it stirred…something…in Hæra to see the bright colors against the drab stone. A bit like her rainbow.

“How lovely,” Madeleine said as they walked down the alley. “Look at the flowers. In fact, hold on a second.”

Hæra waited for Madeleine to start snapping pictures with her mobile. Humans were fond of doing that in moments like this. But instead, Madeleine bent to sniff a pink, fluffy rose. The movement pushed out her bottom. Her jeans fit her well. Hæra swallowed.

“Wonderful.” Madeleine straightened up. “There’s a reason they tell you to stop and smell the roses. Come on, you do it too.”

At least she hadn’t caught Hæra ogling her arse. “If it’d please you.”

Madeleine looked in her eyes. “It would.”

Hæra’s heart hammered as she bent to inhale the scent of the rose. It was sweet, almost overpoweringly so, but pleasant. She was used to how land plants smelled by now, and this was nicer than most.

“Tropical plants grow well in New Orleans,” Madeleine said. “It’s hot there. You might melt.”

Hæra turned to face her. Madeleine was standing closer now, her face upturned as she gave Hæra an earnest look. She was very beautiful.

And far more relaxed than Hæra had ever seen her. There could be a reason for that. “Did you drink too much?”

Madeleine laughed. “One-and-a-half glasses isn’t enough to knock me over. Just enough to make me think that some things I was worried about aren’t that terrible, you know? And it’s such a beautiful night, and these are such beautiful flowers, and you’re…” She trailed off and kept looking into Hæra’s eyes.

Hæra’s heart was whale song: a thundering, irresistible call. She whispered, “What am I?”

Before Madeleine could answer, Hæra’s hand did what it had wanted to do that first night in the kitchen. It reached up to touch Madeleine’s face. Her skin was soft as the rose petals.

Madeleine’s exhalation was barely audible. Perhaps human ears could not have heard it. But the dilation of her pupils was obvious, as was the soft parting of her lips.

At that moment, Hæra knew what she was. I’m hers.

And after six years, drawn to Madeleine’s heat like sea fog to the land, Hæra kissed her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Warm.