"Ignatia!" I yelp to my discomfort.
But then, the next second is like ecstasy. It's a rush of thrills. Like I'm floating on clouds and drowning in so much bliss it hurts.
I'm getting her marking. She’ll pull away and the marking will be there. I'm the prince of Amara, marked by the enemy.
“Ignatia…”
Everything about us flashes before me. First meeting Ignatia. Her blazing eyes when she challenged me. Saving her life in the mall and in the orphanage. Her saving mine. My built up yearning. Our first kiss.
There's no other woman that I'd rather be marked by.
I'm fucking helpless to her now. I don't care. I don't want to struggle. I don't even care to figure out what's going on. My body shudders and my vision blurs in the darkness, letting her bite as I embrace what's happening.
My eyes strain and my hands tighten as I take in the delicious pain. I feel like I'm about to faint from these overwhelming feelings. These feelings I wish to obey.
I'm hers. She's mine. We'll forever be intertwined.
And you know what? It feels damn good to think about it.
Chapter 46
Ignatia
“Hey Captain Prettyface …” I whisper into his ear. “You got to wake up.”
I admire the prince's chiseled chest rising up and down. He fainted after the marking, which is more common than not. His skin seems to glow under the light of Estrella's sunset, and it contours his muscles perfectly. He's sleeping against the bettamare flowers he grew during his marking, the ones that both him and I are touching lighting up.
He looks so ethereal. I wish someone could paint him this way.
His lips are curled up slightly. I chuckle to myself. Clearly he had enjoyed the marking.
The mark.
I run my thumb over his neck where the bite mark is. It's perfect. The marks my teeth made are purplish, permanently embedded in his skin.
I wish I had a mark of sorts.
I lean down and nip the tender spot on his neck. It earns a satisfying moan that makes me smile against his skin. Only I can do this to him. No one else gets this satisfaction.
They never will.
I lift my head to meet his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes. “I see you enjoyed my work.”
He furrows his brows before he brings a hand to his neck. For a moment, my heart skips, scared that he's regretting it, but after a few seconds he smiles to himself. “I can't believe that happened.” He says with a deep throaty voice.
“Me neither.” I smirk. “But I'm so glad that it did.”
“Me too.” He reaches out a hand and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “There’s no other woman I'd rather be marked by.”
My cheeks warm up as I stroke a thumb over his cheek. “No other man is worthy of my marking.”
His smile grows. “You really know how to make a man blush.”
“You look adorable flustered. I need tactics to keep you that way.”
He closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the bed. “I refuse to think you're real.”
“I was just thinking that you'd look lovely as a painting.” I stroke a thumb down his arm. “I’d pay to have a nude painting of you. Sleeping whimsically in the amare flowers, with the starshine on you.”
