It was strange and even a little annoying, that fluttering tingle in the middle of her chest that made her open her eyes and meet Aidan’s dark gaze. He was lying on his side, his head on one arm, his hair disheveled.

“What’s wrong?” she asked worriedly.

“You don’t seem to have been marked. Neither of us does,” he replied. He was obviously disappointed about that.

Rhiannon put a hand on the curve of her neck, where the tattoo should have been.

“Do you feel bad about that?” she wanted to know. No matter how much he tried to hide it or resist it, the bonds of subjection were deeply ingrained in Aidan’s behavior, and to him the mark was just one that he was allowed to by all the laws.

“I don’t know what it means. Did I really mark you? Didn’t you accept the mark? Don't you want to be—”

“With you?” Rhiannon finished for him. “Aidan, that insecurity is beside the point. Everything that has happened between us up to this point has been my decision, and by now, you should believe that n