Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Clara shot upright in bed, gulping in air, her forehead damp with sweat.

Her eyes were unfocused as she looked at him. "What?"

Dylan's hands hovered stiffly over his laptop, veins standing out, but his face gave nothing away-calm, almost distant.

"What did you dream about?"

She frowned, digging for the memory, but all she could grab was a heavy,

uncomfortable feeling pressing down on her chest.

Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around Dylan's.

"Babe, can we not sleep here tomorrow night? I really don't like this place."

She slipped into her old, familiar way of whining-Clara had always been good at that, ever since she was little.

She was always so sweet and obedient, stubborn but adorable, a little clueless, a lot innocent.

Clara watched his face, searching for a hint of warmth, scooting closer to press a few soft kisses to the corner of his lips.noveldrama

"Please?" she murmured.

He didn't say a word, just closed his laptop slowly.

Suddenly, Clara felt a chill radiating off him-cold, almost sharp. She loosened her hold on his arm, uneasy.

He set the laptop aside, folded up the tray table, then glanced at her. "Are you scared of me?"

She dropped her head and stayed quiet. She had no idea what had set him off. Then, out of nowhere, he cupped her face in his hands, staring at her.

There was still sadness in her eyes, leftovers from her dream that just wouldn't fade.

When she was awake, her eyes never really saw him-not even a reflection. But in her dreams, she always called out for him.

Yeah, he thought, he'd never be able to open that door, no matter what he did.

He'd tried everything.

Clara's eyes widened, searching his face. "What's wrong, babe?"

Dylan let go of her face, his voice rough. "Just sleep."

Clara pressed her lips together, hesitated, then suddenly climbed onto his lap.

She kissed his eyelids, then the corner of his mouth.

She looked at him, waiting.

Still mad?

She dropped her head, kissing his jaw, then down to his throat.

His Adam's apple bobbed. He reached over and patted her head gently, almost absentmindedly.

Clara thought maybe he'd let it go. She was just about to move away when he spoke up:

"Mark me."

His voice was soft, turning his head

a little. Do you know how? Right where you kissed me. Make it deep, so it never goes away."

Clara blinked, not really sure what he meant.

Then he tugged at her loose shirt, pulling it off her shoulder.

He leaned in and bit down, hard enough to make her wince.

She didn't cry out, just froze for a second before relaxing again.

The bite was fierce, like he wanted to brand her, to leave something permanent.

When he finally let go, he rested his forehead on her shoulder, his eyes burning red.

Clara was pretty sure he'd drawn blood, and there'd definitely be a mark.

So this was what he meant by marking.

She glanced at his collarbone, then leaned in and bit him there.

It was the perfect spot-when he wore a shirt, it would show just enough.

She'd meant to go easy, but remembering his bite, she didn't hold back. She bit down until she tasted

blood, then held on even harder, just because she wanted to.

Weirdly, she liked the idea of leaving her mark on her husband. Now everyone

would know he was taken, right?

Her heart pounded, a wild heat rising up. She bit down again, even harder.

Dylan shot her a look, like-was she trying to eat him alive?

Five minutes later, Clara finally let go, running her tongue over her teeth.

"All done, babe. You're marked."

Dylan looked at her for a second, then glanced away. He leaned

I a quick, messy kit

and

sto

her mouth.

"Sleep."

If there was a price to pay for this later, so be it. At this point, what difference did it

make?

The thought made the ache in his chest a little less sharp.

He'd never really had her, not for real.

It was just that, for a moment, he'd let himself believe in the dream.