Marked by fate
As my lips graze his skin, I see goosebumps break out along his neck.
He smiles, his hand sliding to the small of my back. “My name’s Mike,” he says, voice low and rumbling through his chest. Before I can react, he closes the distance between us and kisses me. His lips are soft, tasting faintly of cherry and mint—sweet but strange. When he pulls back, he flashes me that devastating smile again, and somehow, I smile back my lips tingle, and my tongue feels momentarily numb. Something about his name registers as familiar, but I seem unable to grasp it. Zanthe snarls in my mind, but the kiss didn’t feel invasive, it felt… nice. Maybe not as toe curling as Max’s kisses, but still it was nice.
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