I flinch as my body connects with his, nestling down, tender underneath even though our union was brief, and I catch the look of guilt sweep over his face before he smooths it out to conceal it. His hand comes up to trace where he marked me and, finding the courage to look for the first time, I pay real attention to where it is. Shocked that the reason there is no pain or throbbing, and I hadn’t acknowledged it, is because it’s already healed. No blood, no gash, but a perfect bite mark of dark scars that is smooth to the touch, almost like a tattoo in subtle hues....