Meanwhile, he sucked hickeys on my shoulders and collarbones, a necklace of vampire kisses, a wreath of bruises that I’d watch turn from one jewel tone to another. Garnet, ruby, amethyst, hints of sapphire and tourmaline and citrine. Even as he bit into my flesh and pressed his mark into my skin, I started to mourn the loss of those notes. They were written in hate, but after years of my letters being returned to sender unopened, it felt good to get a response.
