“Do you hate me for it?” Malini asked, framing Priya’s face with her hands. “Are you angry that I don’t love as you do?” Priya laughed. A breathless sound, oddly sweet. “Were you afraid I’d die?” Priya asked. She took hold of Priya’s hair. Heavy, dark hair, slippery as silk, riven with things flowering. Malini moved her fingers through it. She pressed her lips against Priya’s neck, feeling the heat of her skin, the warmth of it. She smelled of—sweat, salt, and rain-washed soil. It should have been unpleasant, too human and too strange all at once. But Malini could do nothing but press her
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