I wore his marks like brands. And I couldn't decide if I was ashamed or proud.
Morning came too soon and too bright. Elara woke tangled in sheets that smelled like her own confusion, her body pleasantly sore in ways that made last night impossible to deny.
She touched her neck gingerly. Found the evidence immediately—tender spots where his mouth had claimed her with more enthusiasm than restraint.
Hickeys. Like she was a teenager sneaking around instead of a grown woman who'd just had desperate sex with the father of her child.
In the bathroom mirror, the marks were obvious. Dark purple blooming against pale skin. A constellation of possession that makeup couldn't fully hide.
She tried anyway. Concealer layered thick. Foundation blended carefully. But the shadows remained visible if you looked closely.
And Kairos would look closely.
