I follow his gaze, seeing the telltale ‘R’ of his signet ring forming a purple bruise below my hip bone, almost on my inner thigh. I hear him emit a low growl as he traces a finger over it, and then he looks back up at me. Something greedy and covetous passes over his expression. “You’re mine,” he growls. I notice he doesn’t say today, or for the duration of this scene, or even this week. His.
