Sun was rising to paint the sky with magnificent oranges and pinks, the increasing light seeped into Cornelia's room where two unmoving bodies laid on the bed.
James was on his side and observing his chocolate-colored Goddess. Cornelia. Cora. His mate. She was the definition of beauty.
The thin blanket covered them waist-down, and he could see her shoulders, breasts, and stomach. Every inch of her was perfect.
The golden designs smeared due to their repeated lovemaking, and they all blended into Cornelia's melanin-rich skin, giving her a golden hue that looked natural.
James didn't sleep last night. He was elated and excited, and now he was worried.
He had no regrets, but he was high after the ceremony, and he felt the bond and the pull, and his wolf was messing with his mind, and they did it. They made love, many times. And he marked her and she was his.
There shouldn't be problems, but James was aware that the craze from last night subsided.
