Page 29 of Hollyhocks

The ink spills between us from my orgasm, my claim officially finding its own pattern to mark him forever. I’ll need a few more nights with him for the pattern to grow to its full potential. Only when the marking is finally visible, is the mating complete.

I bend down, kissing him, realizing our time together is almost over.

“Please, don’t go,” he says between kisses, tucking a piece of blue hair behind my ear, and that gesture alone, has me feeling like a fragile woman in the hands of a strong man.

I’ve never felt that before.

“I’ll be where you can see,” I tell him with a smile, wishing I didn’t have to go, but he’ll wake soon now that the dream is over.

“What’s that mean?”

“Everywhere you’ll be, I’ll be, Doe Eyes. I’m your monster mate. You won’t go anywhere without me.” I slip from his cock, my tentacles rolling together to create a plug so his come doesn’t leak out, and stare down at the mess I’ve made on him.

Onyx drips down my thighs, proof of my orgasm. I dash to the bathroom, and I still don’t feel sated after I claimed him. I need something else. I need my scent on him every day.

Remembering how he washed his hair, I open the stall to the shower and snag his shampoo. Twisting off the top, I sniff the liquid when I notice it is dark. “What…” I read the label and grin.

This couldn’t be more perfect for my plan. Fitz has detoxifying charcoal shampoo which is dark grey. I’m going to take advantage of this and anything else I can put my ink into. I press the open bottle against my thigh, catching the excess drops.

Twisting the top on, I give the bottle a good shake and leave it in the same spot on the shelf. Walking back into the bedroom, I stare at my beautiful mate.

“Holly,” he whispers in his sleep.

My heart tugs towards him. I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and have him hold me. I could.

But I won’t.

Before I go, I snag one of his work shirts from the laundry bin and slip it over my head. His scent surrounds me, easing the tension of my beasts. I don’t like or want to leave him.

I have to.

I sink into the shadows, blend into my surroundings, and watch him.

If watching him were all I had to do, my life would be fulfilled.

The jarring sound of my alarm going off wakes me with a start. I sit up as I gasp for breath. My head feels a bit cloudy. My heart is racing. I turn, glaring at my alarm when a low aching throb begins to pulse in my temple.

I snag the alarm, rip the plug from the socket, then throw it across the room. It smashes against the wall; the loud obnoxious beeping slows until it finally stops.

Dead.

I’ve been known to be a really kind guy. I’ve given the shirt off my back before. I’ve bought coffee for people I don’t know. I’ve donated. I’ve built homes for others that aren’t as fortunate as I am. I’ve gotten calls in the early morning from friends who need help or a ride.

I’m there.

But I am not a morning person. I hate mornings.

It’s wild to me that people have to get up early for work. Whoever made that rule deserves a punch in the face.

I’m more of a noon to eight kind of guy. It’s why Rhett lets me work behind the desk for a few hours when I get there. I’m not a fully functioning human being until my second cup of coffee. I buy alarm clocks in bulk because I end up breaking more than three a week.

I tried the alarm on my phone twice and that was two times more than I wanted to dish out funds for a phone. It’s cheaper to buy alarm clocks.

Rubbing my eyes with the palm of my hands, I yawn, stretching my arms above my head. My shoulders pop and I groan, cracking my neck next. I inhale, smelling the brew of my coffee lingering in the air from the kitchen.

I love automatic programming.

Snagging the edge of the blanket, I rip it off and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. As I stretch my back, I cock my head to the side when I see one of my lightbulbs is broken.

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