Luke sat me up, finally letting go of my hand. He then locked his gaze on me, as if he wanted to ensure that I wouldn't backtrack on my words. We exchanged minutes of staring at each other, which ended when I gave him a sheepish smile.
"Are you sure you really want me to mark you?" He asked, holding me by my shoulders. I've always found myself drawn to those red eyes, more than anything else. It felt like I could get lost in those eyes, and it wouldn't even matter if I couldn't find my way back. They were like the jewels I found in my father's vault—which often fell victim to the servants' greed. "There's no going back once I marked you."
"What about you?" I asked, "Do I have to bite you too?"
He froze, as though he was thinking about how to respond to my question. I'm pretty sure we were the first witch and werewolf mates in the whole history of werewolves, and even he wasn't entirely clear on the subject.
