″Stop Rhy.″ My palms were sweaty as they pushed at his chest.
″I can’t.″ No. He wouldn’t.
His muscles were pulling and bunching as I grabbed his biceps, the dragon tattoo that he had gotten grounded for still healing as it looked like it slithered across his chest and beneath my fingers on his right arm every time he tensed his muscles.
Sweat rolled from his forehead to his dark full brows, past his deep brown eyes, rushing to trace his thick, kiss-swollen lips and spill off his strong jaw and onto my bare, lightly tanned chest below.
We were both sweating, adrenalin fuelled us both, pumping through our veins as our home’s grandfather clock chimed its last bell that signalled midnight and the start of November 4th; our 16th birthday.
″I’ve waited so long for this.″ His deep eyes bore into my slightly lighter ones, his fingers brushing the sweat matted dark blonde hair from my forehead.
″Stop Rhy.″ My fingers mirrored his, combing through his blonder, shorter, hair and coming to rest on his defined cheekbone. ″Please.″
I should have seen it coming when his eyes turned golden, or at least when his canines descended almost piercing his parted bottom lip that my thumb was gently ghosting over. But I didn’t.
Before my eyes could even widen in horror, his teeth were already in my neck; marking me his for life.