Chapter Five
Marked by Him
When I woke up, my thighs ached, and every inch of me was sore in the best way. My skin still smelled like him. Like his come, his sweat, his ink.
My panties—whenever I found them again—were likely unsalvageable.
Silas was already up, standing by the large studio window with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and his other arm bent, flexed against the pane as he stared out over the early morning light flooding the city.
Still naked. Beautiful. Back and shoulders broad and carved like stone.
My body stirred just looking at him.
But I also felt… different. Changed.
Used? No.
Possessed? Maybe.
“Morning,” I said, my voice still rough from screaming his name hours ago.
He turned slowly.
The look in his eyes was deep. Solemn. Intense.
Like he was trying
