Bite-Size Luna
I warn.
“Scouts honour,” he says, saluting me and making me laugh, “I still prefer calling you Bite-Size,” he smirks.
“Why? Because I’m likely to bite someone?”
“No,” he chuckles, leaning in and kissing my marking spot, “Because you’re good enough to eat,” he whispers, causing that needy haze to cloud my senses.
“Don’t distract me,” I say stepping back, “Or I’ll miss my own ceremony.”
“Very well, but I get to devour you later my Bite-Size Luna,” he smirks.