Page 48 of Echoes

"Even the score?" I repeat in confusion.

He grabs my waist with one hand, scooping me forward. Twisting us around, he lets go, my body falling onto Damon's mattress.

My body bounces, hands catching myself as I peer up at him, stunned.

Grey drops to his knees, pushing my legs apart. His fingers run over my inner thighs, examining the skin. "Right here," he murmurs, pushing his thumb into the top of my right adductor.

I glance down at my leg, too choked up to speak. I watch as he picks up the knife from the bed, running the sharp tip gently down my thigh.

"He marked you in his own way," Grey murmurs. "Now, I'm going to mark you in mine."

His eyes flicker up to mine, and although he doesn't say anything, I know he's silently waiting for the go ahead. I nod, his lips tugging into a smirk as he turns his attention back to my thigh.

Pressing the blade into my skin, a burning pain crashes through me. It's almost exactly like how it was with Theo—a bearable pain, extinguishing the emotional turmoil that haunts me. And like the tattoo… this means something. To me, and to the man between my legs slicing into my pale skin.

I feel blood roll down my thigh, dripping onto Damon's bed. I have no sympathy for his belongings though. This is what he wanted, right? He left us in his room with his blessing, so I guess it can be expected that we might make a mess.

A little hiss falls from my lips before I can stop it. I half-expect Grey to stop, but he doesn't. Instead, he slips his other hand under the legs of my shorts, pressing his thumb against my clit through my underwear. Fire rages through me at the feel of him, fueled by the knife cutting me open. As I bleed, it feels like all of my built up sadness is flowing out, leaving only the longing I have for him.

Grey pauses the knife's movements, turning his attention to my underwear as he pulls them aside under my shorts. Circling my clit, he groans under his breath, eyes flaring up at me.

"You're wet for me already."

I bite my bottom lip, giving him a little nod. "I might have a hold on you, Grey. But I promise that you have a hold on me too."

Something flashes in his eyes, the knife quickly slicing one final time before he flings it sideways across the room. It lands with such force that the tip digs into the wall, holding the knife horizontally in place.

Grey launches up from the floor, slamming his lips into mine. He kisses me hard, bruising my lips, but I couldn't care less. Hesucks the air from my body, only pulling back when I start to tense up from needing a breath that I haven't bothered to take because I just want him.

Sliding back to the floor, he leans down, running his tongue up my thigh. The cut stings against his tongue, and when he pulls back, his lips are coated in specks of blood.

I watch breathlessly as he grabs the razor blade, slicing his palm in one swift movement. I make a choking sound in concern, but he squeezes his hand into a fist, holding it above my leg. Blood drips downs onto my thigh, mingling with my own.

Grey runs his fingers over my skin, mixing the red together. Leaning back, he smiles down at his work of art. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I hunch forward, looking down to see.

MINE.

Our eyes meet at the same time, his face proud. I swallow, feeling a wave of emotions.

I'm his.

Lifting the blade to his mouth, he runs his tongue over the metal without breaking our locked eyes. My chest heaves as I breathe deeply, and I reach down, running my fingers over his mark to feel it.

He watches intensely as I bring my index finger covered in our blood to my face, inspecting it before dropping it to my lips, slipping it inside. The metallic taste bursts on my tongue, but I barely get a chance to finish what I started before Grey is on top of me. My back slams into the mattress as he pushes me down, covering my mouth with his.

"You're fuckingmine,Avery," he growls into my mouth. "This lifetime and the next one too."

Chapter 17

Grey

Avery's soft pink lips part, her eyes wide as she stares up at me in utter disbelief. It's as if she's still trying to grasp the reality that I'm here with her, our bodies pressed together.

"Yours?" she breathes out, a hint of desperation to her tone.

Fuck, I've missed her. I've missed the way she craves my touch, the way she silently begs for my approval.

I'm trying hard to hold onto my control, but it's difficult. The feeling of our bodies together is blinding, like we're made to be as one.

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