Page 93 of Splintered Shadow
Vekele hummed before responding, no doubt consulting with Pitch. “More like an exhausted nanny. If there is trouble, he will be in the middle of it.”
Sarah smiled, knowing it was true. Her bond with Ghost had grown, and she even had more control over the dark tentacles. Despite his larger size, he hadn’t outgrown his puppyish enthusiasm. He tripped over his own paws as often as not.
“This is for you,” Vekele said, drawing her attention from the frolicking void beast. “For us.”
He held out a flat box to her.
Sarah took the box, unsure of what to expect. Vekele had not been humble or modest in outfitting her with anything he thought she needed. Mentioned that she liked the soft sweater she wore? Boom, she found duplicates of the same sweater in every color in her wardrobe the next day. Asked about moisturizer because the recycled air on the ship dried out her skin and a dozen different jars of face goop, soap, and body lotion arrived before the day was over.
He hadn’t been proactive, though. He waited for prompts or clues from her. She hadn’t mentioned jewelry. She wasn’t a jewelry person.
Opening the box revealed a set of silver claw tips.
“Oh,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “They’re lovely.”
“You are a terrible liar,” he said.
He had her there. “Do I need to wear these to a function? Or are we going to someplace fancy?”
He moved to his knees, kneeling before her. Carefully, he placed the claw caps onto the fingers of her left hand. “These are not for the public’s eye. They are for us. Alone.” His voice grew husky. “It is traditional for an Arcosian female to mark her mate. Typically, she will use her claws. For those who have broken their claws or cannot, they wear these.”
The last cap went over her pinky finger. A delicate silver chain threaded them together.
“The tips are sharpened to pierce a male’s skin,” he said.
Sarah held her hand up to examine the caps. A razor -sharp edge gleamed in the setting sun’s light. “Is that what you want me to do?”
“I would be honored to carry your mark, but only if you wish.”
The longing in his voice came through loud and clear. On their wedding night, such as it was, he bit her— which left a faint scar— and explained the mate markings. He hadn’t mentioned it since, and she sort of forgot. Their days had been nonstop busy for so long. Now that things were finally slowing down, they had more time for sunset picnics and, apparently, ordering a custom set of razor -sharp silver claw caps.
“Where I’m from, we just wear rings. No blood involved,” she said, her tone gently teasing.
He made an unimpressed noise. “Rings can be lost or removed. Your mark will be a part of me, always.”
She did like the sound of that.
“Will it hurt?” She asked, recalling the sharp sting of his bite and the numbing effect of his salvia on the wound. “My saliva doesn’t have cool properties.”
“Some, but I am not concerned.” He lifted the bottom of the box to reveal a cleaning swab and antiseptic gel.
The planning he put into this moment won Sarah over. She didn’t want to hurt Vekele, but this wasn’t hurting him out of anger or fear. Right now, with the sunset warm on his face, it was clear that this act meant more than simply cutting into his skin and leaving a mark. It was claiming him, choosing him not because the king thought it politically savvy or because she didn’t have any options, but because she wantedhim. Vekele.
“How do we do this?” she asked.
“The arm is traditional. The upper chest is discreet. The back is seen as a sign of passionate love.” He tensed, waiting for her response. His stiff posture told her there was a correct answer, but he wouldn’t tell her because of some weird alien logic.
Sarah flexed her fingers, weighing her options. Her prince was a touch vain, denying it as he might. Considering how often he wore sleeveless waistcoats; the arm seemed the best location. “The arm. I want everyone to know that you’re mine,” she said.
His posture relaxed. She chose the correct answer.
Sarah moved to straddle his lap. His arms went around her waist. Sitting taller than him, he tilted his face back and to the side to watch her.
She pressed her forehead to his in his style of embrace, then followed up with a kiss. Starting sweet and warm, it stretched out, quickly growing hot. His hand crept under her shirt and stroked her lower back. She rocked against him, feeling him hard beneath her.
Sarah pulled away, forcing herself to stay focused and not get distracted by the sexy man under her.
“For the record, I will always choose you,” she said, placing her clawed hand on his arm.
