Holding her in my arms like this, I could feel the heat of her body begin to subside. Her scent was changing—slowly shifting from the unbearable sweetness of heat to the aftermath of pleasure. We all knew what it meant.
She needed to be marked.
But I hesitated.
We had not been given permission to mark her—only to consummate this cursed union. And though we had fulfilled that duty, I feared crossing that line. Marking her would be forever. Binding. Sacred.
And after everything we had done, did we even deserve such grace?
Just as I felt her body weaken further in my hold, Lycaon moved to help her. Gently, he lifted her from the blood-stained bed and carried her to the tub we had moved into the room earlier. The cold water would soothe her… cleanse her of us, even if only in flesh.
She
