Page 83 of Beneath Scales and Shadows
“How?”
A plan began forming in her mind—dangerous, audacious, but possible. “They want me alone, separated from you. That’s their first mistake.”
Through their blood bond, she felt his understanding dawn, followed by reluctant admiration for her strategy. “The blood bond,” he murmured. “They don’t know.”
“They don’t know,” she confirmed, a fierce smile curving her lips. “And that gives us an advantage they can’t anticipate.”
“If you insist on facing this danger, then let me protect you the only way I can.” His voice rumbled with emotion. “Let me mark you, and I won’t stop you from coming with us.”
Sora hesitated, understanding flooding through her as his meaning became clear. The mark—something profoundly significant beyond mere symbolism. She’d read about it in the ancient texts, seen illustrations depicting the sacred bonding between dragon and mate.
“The mark...” she whispered, “it’s permanent too, isn’t it?”
He nodded, his crimson eyes holding hers with unwavering intensity. “It forges a bond nothing can break—not distance, not magic, not death itself.” His tail curled tighter around her, a physical manifestation of his protective instinct. “I will always know if you’re in danger. Always be able to find you.”
Heat pooled in her core at the possessive edge in his voice, but uncertainty still gnawed at her. This was no small thing he offered—something more than a blood bond.
A current of longing surged through her—that she belonged with him, to him, as he belonged to her.
“Will it hurt?” she asked, fingers tracing the now-permanent silver scales adorning her forearm.
“Yes,” he admitted, the honesty in his gaze unwavering. “But only for a moment.”
She swallowed, considering the weight of this choice. Coal remained imprisoned, suffering torment that grew worse with each passing hour. What was physical pain compared to his suffering? She was already permanently bonded to him via their blood bond, this would just be another layer.
Yet beneath those noble justifications lurked something more selfish, more primal—a desire to be claimed, to be his in ways that transcended the prophecy’s demands or political alliances.
This was different—this time, the mark would be hers to choose. Not like the blood bond, not like the choice Ignis made for her when he saved her.
“Do it,” she said, voice steadier than she expected. “Mark me.”
Ignis’s pupils expanded until only thin rings of crimson remained. His wing curled around her, creating a sanctuary of shadow and warmth as he lowered his head to her level.
“This requires blood,” he explained, his voice dropping to a register that sent shivers along her spine. “Mine and yours, mingling at the moment the mark is made.”
He extended one taloned finger, pricking the pad of his thumb. Dark red blood—almost black in the dim light—welled from the small wound. The scent hit her with unexpected potency, metallic yet somehow sweet, calling to the dragon blood awakening in her veins.
“Come,” he urged, one hand extended in invitation.
Sora moved without conscious thought, drawn to him with magnetic inevitability. She tilted her head, exposing the junction where neck met shoulder—an instinctive gesture she hadn’t known she possessed until this moment.
His heated breath ghosted over her skin as he leaned in, voice a low growl that rumbled through her bones.“Mine.”
Then his teeth—pointed and unforgiving—sank into her flesh.
Pain hit first—sharp, electric, blinding. She gasped, her body arching against his, fingers gripping his scaled shoulders as sensation rippled through her like a storm.
He didn’t release her. Instead, he slid his hand up, thumb pressing gently but firmly past her parted lips. She took him instinctively, the pad of his thumb resting on her tongue, grounding her even as everything else unraveled.
His blood mingled with hers at the puncture site—hot, potent,alive. She tasted it a heartbeat later, drawn to the source like it was the only thing that could quiet the chaos inside her.
The first pull was hesitant. The second, desperate.
It flooded her senses—rich, ancient, intoxicating. Power and heat and something unmistakablyhim. Her mind blurred, pleasure and pain folding into one another, until there was only the bond and the taste of him on her tongue.
Ignis’s consciousness brushed against hers—not with words but with raw emotion. Possession. Protection. Pride. Need. The barriers between them thinned, allowing glimpses of a connection deeper than physical joining.
When he finally withdrew, she slumped against him, trembling with aftershocks that rippled through her body in waves. She touched the mark, the raised skin hot beneath her fingers. When she pulled her fingers away, they came back tinged with blood—both hers and his, indistinguishable now.
