"Won't you join the bath with me?" I tilt my head feigning innocence.
He raises a brow coming closer leaning into me. "And why should I?"
"Because..." I drift off moving closer exposing my foamy chest. "Your fiancé is requesting to share a bath with...
"Since I'm dead...I'm not gonna get pregnant am I...?" She questions anxiously her head laid against my chest as we cuddled together in bed.
"No you're not going to get pregnant Syere." I roll my eyes.
"Just checking. I don't want kids." She admits.
"Why?" I questioned.
"Too much trauma." She mumbles slightly into my chest. "I don't see myself ever healing enough to have kids." She shrugs.
Her face then goes sour. "And look what happened when I was trusted to watch after my brother.., I don't trust myself to be a good mother I'm hardly a good person." She mutters in defeat.
"I disagree I think you experiencing what you did would just make you protective if not more." I kiss her temple. "How about we go on another date? Think we deserve it after the hectic week." I offered.
"Sure but where?"
•••
I smile uncovering her eyes as we step into the garden I had kept all these years. No one was allowed to enter the area outside of myself, my parents and now Syere.
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She watches in silence gazing at the flowers and greenery that surrounded the room. The light that shone through the glass window casted gently over her face like a halo as she smiled seemingly pleased.
"It's so pretty." She steps further into the room and I follow closely behind her as she explored the large garden.
She stumbles on a bush of white lilies going to touch them but I grab her wrist stopping her.
Before she can question my actions I brush my fingers against the lilies turning the flowers into a deep scarlet red.
"Their petals are covered in thorns that drains the color of anything it touches dyeing them red." I explained turning to her. "So don't touch—"
She smiles widely seemingly entranced by the fact brushing her hand across the bush of flowers wildly watching them all turn excitedly.
"What are they called?" She questions not straying from the flowers.
"Flower of death." I answered plucking one off its branch decorating her hair with it.
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