The first mark appeared on a Tuesday, and she didn't notice until lunch.
Nadia caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror — a bruise blooming at the base of her throat, purple and unmistakable, sitting just above the collar of her blouse where no amount of fabric could hide it. She'd worn her hair up that day and it was visible. Anyone who looked would see it.
She stood in the mirror and traced it with her finger, and her body flushed with the memory of how it had gotten there: Adrian's mouth, hard against her pulse, teeth dragging, the low growl he'd made when he finally bit down.
She came back from lunch and found him in the hallway. He looked at her throat and smiled.
"Wear your hair up more often," he said, and kept walking.
From there, it became systematic. Marks appeared in pl
