Dorian gazed at his work—a dark red mark blooming across Cassian's collarbone. His masterpiece.
His lips curled in satisfaction. "So beautiful," he murmured.
As if to soothe the area, he leaned down once more, this time pressing a soft, lingering peck against the mark.
But it only made Cassian shudder harder.
Cassian's eyes snapped open.
The realization of what had just happened—of what he had just allowed—came crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
He hurriedly yanked up his tunic, covering the mark as if it would erase the evidence. His face burned, his ears felt hot, and his entire body was trembling—not from pleasure, but from sheer, unbearable mortification.
"You—!" His voice cracked with anger, embarrassment, and something else he did not want to acknowledge.
Dorian merely looked at him with amusement, his smirk never fading.
Cassian had never felt this humiliated in his life.
