Corey looked down just as she darted her forked tongue out to redraw the same pattern with swift, stinging strokes. The sting didn’t bother him any more than any of his other tattoos had, nor did his understanding of what it meant. She had explained that the glowing magic that infused the mark protected him, and established their bond—one that would not be broken until one of them died.
The gravity of the small ritual hit him when she gazed up into his eyes. Her fingertips dug a little harder into his naked chest. She seemed to be waiting for his reaction. He didn’t feel any different, however. The abiding need to be with her hadn’t changed, only now it was accompanied by a sense of permanence. Far from frightening, the feeling was a comfort.
“You’re what I’ve always wanted,” he said.
R
