“I wish I could make you feel better.” I cupped her jaw, rolling her over so that I was pinning her underneath me, looking over her sleepy expression. I would have loved to make her feel better in a lot of different ways, but I truly meant taking away her hangover right now. Her eyes kept closing, and she winced as the sun hit her bed at an angle, enough to make me want to hide her from it.
Although, that would have been a shame because it really was lighting her up. I sat back and looked over her, finding myself in awe of how gorgeous she was, her hair glinting in different shades of dark and light pink and her skin seeming to shimmer like a diamond-smooth surface. If she realized how intensely I studied her with my free time, she would think I was a nutcase… or obsessed. Both were accurate.
“And my hips hurt.” She groaned, yawning before stretching underneath me as my eyes tracked the way her shirt rode up on her small waist. My frame froze as I caught sight of something that had me pushing up her shirt, my chest squeezing in realization of why exactly her hips were hurting.
“Fuck,” I mumbled in shock. A wave of possessiveness rocked through me as I gently peeled down her yoga pants so that they were caught low on her hips. I was tempted to pull them down more, wanting access to her tight little pussy, but not trusting myself, considering what I was looking at right now was making me so goddamn hard it wasn’t even funny.
“What?” She frowned as my fingers ran over where they had clearly been yesterday, gripping her hips and locking her tight little cunt against my mouth. Now, in the morning light, it was very clear that my grip on her had done so much more than I could have predicted. I had… I’d marked her.
Actually, more than marked her. There were literal dark rune-like symbols that matched the massive marking on my chest that had appeared when I’d come into my magic fully. Except hers covered her hips and were black markings intertwined with vibrant gold flames of color that flickered in the sunlight and seemed to move as if they were alive. As if she really had fire dancing across her skin.
Holy hell, this was unreal. I would have called them almost medallion-like in shape, but they felt more like brands that showcased my claim on her. I’d done this. I’d marked her. Branded her. And I should have felt guilty about that because I clearly hadn’t asked… but I felt absolutely zero remorse or regret. In fact, I hadn’t realized just how much I wanted my mark on her until I was now seeing it. I hadn’t even realized that was a possibility, but I fucking loved it. Arabella was mine, and nothing could change that. She was absolutely fucking mine.
“Blackwell?” Her voice was softly curious as she lifted herself up on elbows, her gaze moving towards mine. Her cheeks were flushed, making me thrilled, but it was a bit difficult to focus on that, if we were being honest. Her next words pulled me out of my rather unhealthy train of thought. One that could only lead me down a very dangerous path, as in exploring this newfound addiction to figuring out more ways of marking her. The high I felt looking over such clear ownership was like nothing else I had ever experienced.
“What is that?” Her voice was hesitant. She didn’t seem upset, just surprised. Was she going to be upset when I explained?
I swallowed, not knowing what to say. Instead, I kept my gaze on her, reaching over to grab her glasses from her nightstand before slipping them on her delicate features. She offered me a soft smile before looking down at the marks.
Her sharp intake of breath and wide eyes had me feeling concerned, before a tremble worked its way across her body, making me growl in realization that she didn’t mind in the fucking least. Arabella’s eyes were dilated as she looked up at me, her pulsing jumping wildly, her desire very apparent.
“I don’t understand,” she hedged, examining my reaction.
“I must have let my magic out more than I realized,” I admitted, a smile nearly forming on my face because I wasn’t positive if it had actually been an accident at the time. Hadn’t I been thinking about how fucking perfect she was and how I wanted her to always be mine? Well, now, in at least one way, she would.
“You marked me.” Her voice was soft and… pleased? Thank fuck.
“Yes.” I swallowed and gave a sharp nod as her gaze met mine.
Something had sadness filtering through her gaze. “Is this the part where you get freaked out like Cy and Razar? Tell me how this was somehow a mistake and that you’re bad for me?”
Fuck. I could literally hear the hurt radiating through her voice.
I let out a soft un-humored chuckle. “Sorry, love. I am not nearly as fucking selfless as they are, clearly. I very much want my mark on you.” And so fucking much more.
“Oh.” She laid back as I leaned back over her after rolling her yoga pants back up. “Well, good, because I’m pretty sure that is permanent.”
Understatement of the century, little love.
Before I could explain that, there was a knock on the door that had me nearly groaning, knowing who it was by the magic signature alone. I wanted to keep her wrapped up underneath me for the rest of the night, but the bastard waiting outside seemed to have a goddamn sixth sense for when to interrupt. Hadn’t I said someone would show up eventually?
Maybe we could ignore him.
“You know that won’t work.” She smirked as I realized I’d said that out loud. I rolled over to my side and wrapped myself around her, my head resting against her chest, my arms around her waist. I closed my eyes as she called for them to come in. I wasn’t going to give him any mind yet. Razar was already going to flip the fuck out and try to kill me for possibly hurting her while marking her; I wasn’t in the mood for Saint’s bullshit.
“Well, this is something I wouldn’t have expected,” Saint mused, striding in.
Fucking liar. I could hear the amusement in his voice, and if I hadn’t been so comfortable, I would probably hurt him. As it stood, I very much didn’t want to move. Ever.
I nearly let out a rumble as Arabella’s fingers began to smooth through my hair in a motion that had me both turned on and feeling relaxed enough to close my eyes. A confusing and completely real combination when it came to my little love.
“Morning, Saint.” Arabella’s voice was slightly shy. As she sat up, I kept my arms around her waist, refusing to give her up fully.
“How’s the hangover, flower?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed as if none of this was surprising or unusual.
“How do you know she’s hungover?” I asked. I knew how, but I liked to call Saint out on being such a goddamn stalker.
“I always know what Arabella is doing and how she is doing,” Saint explained easily before his tone turned more serious. “I even managed to keep the others away, and what do I get? Razar absolutely lost it, so much so that I had to lock him up—”
“You what?” My eyes snapped open as Arabella made a small worried noise.
Saint lounged back on the bed and tilted his head, assessing our reactions. “Well yeah, he wanted to kill you when he found out that you not only encouraged her getting drunk but that you went back to her room together.” He chuckled. “So young and dramatic, right? Nevermind, both of you are actually rather young as well. Still, you probably do need to ready yourself, Blackwell, because I informed the others of where he was being kept only minutes ago. I would say that you probably have less than a minute until—”