He was laying down in our bed, snoring softly, fully clothed in a black T-shirt and black jeans. I could see the mark I left on him, practically calling to me. I smirked and quietly, in stealth mode, I climbed onto the bed and hovered his neck. I watched his reaction the whole time as I kissed it slowly. He stirred, his face relaxed.
I kissed it again, pressing my lips on it harder. He groaned and swatted me away. I laughed and pushed him off the bed. "Wake up sleepy head." I said in a funny accent. He pulled himself up from the ground and rubbed his eyes. "I'm tired." He whined and pulled me in for a hug.
Just then, the thought of that book containing the records of the war that led to my parents death, came to my mind. I have been so busy with settling down, trying to discover my speci
