He kissed her hard enough that her back hit the doorframe. The private frequency between them roared back to full volume in the space of a single breath—no careful distance, no performance, no attempt to put the guilt first. Marcus shoved the sleep shirt up and over her head in one motion and looked at the lower marks with an intensity that made Elena’s stomach drop. They were fading at the edges. The yellowing had progressed since he last renewed them. He made a low sound in his chest and lowered his mouth to the darkest one, sucking hard enough to bring the blood back to the surface while Elena’s...