Esme.
My mates hadn't marked me.
The correct order was mating then marking.
We had mated each other, countless times, in our human and our wolf forms. What was supposed to follow was marking each other.
I was supposed to mark them, and they were supposed to do the same in return. From a vague place in my mind, I could remember trying to mark my mates, only to be met with some resistance. Back then, I had been too intoxicated with pleasure to think straight, otherwise, I would have tried to question them. But now, as I caressed the numb spaces above my collarbones, a sad smile twisted at the corners of my lips.
The space was frustratingly bare, no afterbite pain, and clearly, no afterbite swelling. There was no mates' mark.
They took me, over and over, and yet, they couldn't brin
