I might have thought it didn’t have the same effect on him as it did on me, but his fingers twitched in the tiniest of spasms, and as I trailed my hand higher up his arm his skin tightened into prickled gooseflesh. I reached his binding mark, the image that represented our marriage to one another, and began to lightly trace the contours of the image. The tip of the roots and up the trunk of the tree. The bare branches on one side and the lush foliage on the other. His breath hitched, and when I raised my gaze to meet his, I found he was staring me dead in the eye, his pupils completely dilated
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