Marked

The taste of her was fire and lightning, spice and warmth, rich and intoxicating in a way that shouldn't have been possible.

Her blood rushed over my tongue like liquid magic, sinking into every inch of my being, heating me from the inside out, setting every nerve ablaze. And gods—I had never felt something like this before.

I should have stopped.

I needed to stop.

But I couldn't.

Because she felt good. Too good. Her magic hummed beneath her skin, pulsing like a second heartbeat, melding into mine with every drop that I took. The sheer force of it wrapped around my senses, pulling me in deeper, whispering at the edges of my mind—

More. Take more.

I had her against me, warm and solid, her pulse fluttering beneath my lips, her body shivering, but not with fear. Never fear.

And that was what was dangerous.

Because Rhiannon wasn't pushing me away.

She wasn't shoving me off or screaming at me to stop.