Eve
Fifteen minutes later, and the bite still throbbed.
Sharp, insistent, like a second heartbeat just under my skin. I touched the mark again, fingers trembling, feeling the small puncture wounds still wet with blood. The pain had dulled to a deep, pulsing ache, but every time my pulse rushed past it, heat flared through me—hot, needy, undeniable.
Sage watched me from above, eyes dark and glowing faintly red in the low lamplight, chest rising and falling hard. He hadn’t pulled out yet. He was still buried inside me, thick and heavy, hips pressed flush against mine like he was afraid to let even an inch of space come between us.
I could feel him twitch when I clenched around him, involuntary, needy.
“You marked me,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from moaning, from crying his name.
He
