Page 105 of The First Scar
I counted. A silent drum in my head.
One... two... three...
My marks stirred, syncing with the steady rhythm of his breath. The air crackled around us with electricity. My body leaned closer—his arm tightened at my waist.
Four... five... six...
The cavern faded. The music became a haze. Only his eyes remained—dark and fathomless, pulling me deeper. My breath hitched, suspended between his lips and mine.
On heartbeat seven, the lanterns guttered.
Dreadscale's dragon tattoo flared—a silent hiss of ember-light beneath his skin.
Then an intimidating form stepped into the space, cloaked in a plain black mask, intercepting our turn and catching my hand mid-air.
Dreadscale released my waist without surprise. His eyes gleamed as he offered a curt, knowing bow to the masked figure.
The male's other hand pulled my body to his and spun us so his back blocked the crowd, caging me in.
My body knew him before my mind caught up. My Marks knew him.
Crownforged.
Gone for days. Not a word. Not a glance. I'd checked every shadow, every corridor, every damn entrance to the mess hall like some worry-sick fool—andnothing.
And now he was here. Pressed against me. Like he had the right.
I wanted to shove him off. I wanted to ask where the hell he'd been.
I couldn't do either.
My body, my Marks were already instinctively pressing toward him—like I'd stepped too close to a black hole and was about to be swallowed alive. He pinned one of my wrists behind my back, the other flat against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat under my palm. Or maybe that was mine. I couldn't tell anymore.
His lips brushed my ear. Teeth bared.
"Count, little fox. One breath for every beat you let him hold you."
I tried to drag myself back to my senses. Tried to find the sharp edges of my anger.
"I owe you nothing," I hissed.
He squeezed my wrist—pain first, then heat. The bond pulled me in ruthlessly, and my knees started to give.
"Then humor a condemned male." His voice was rough-edged. Dangerous. "Count."
I was spiraling into the inferno, into the impossible gravity of him. I shook my head.No.
"Alright, Scar-Bearer." His lips brushed the shell of my ear again. His grip stayed firm—anchoring me, like without it I'd melt to the floor. "I'll help you the first time."
His hand found my chin. Turned my head until I had no choice but to meet his eyes.
"One..." He pulled me tighter. "Two..." Our marks flared, heat building between us. "Three..."
Each number dragged me closer. The fusion was building—crackling, inevitable—
He stopped. Squeezed my chin hard enough to bruise.
"Let another male count your pulse," he whispered, "and I'll take it back. Beat by beat."
