Malric's Pov

They say a taste is a taste.

But when a taste becomes something I cannot live without, what is it called?

I don't know. You tell me.

Delilah.

Last night was the best-seizing her, devouring her softness, claiming every gasp, every tremble. It almost drove me past the edge. I almost marked her. My teeth hovered on that delicate skin, the instinct roaring inside me to brand her mine forever. But I stopped. Because once I did, there would be no turning back.

Now I find myself staring out the window like a fool, watching servants move about, the horses steaming under the morning sun. My mind is...