Saved, Then Rejected by my Ice Hockey Mate
I drag my teeth gently over his skin until I find the spot, and I sink them in.
He shudders hard beneath me, a ragged groan tearing from his throat, his fingers digging into my hips. I pour everything into it—my magic, my love, my very essence—spiced rose and sweet, warm cherry blooming bright and fierce, pouring deep into him, tangling forever with his cedarwood. Our scents twist together, inseparable, rising up in the air between us: his strength wrapped in my warmth, mine anchored in his.
When I pull back, the mark glows faintly against his skin, matching mine perfectly. A crescent moon with a half wing and a small rose.