Every touch was deliberate, just shy of intimate. Laura fought to keep her breathing steady as his hands worked their way up her body, leaving red marks in their wake.
When he finished, Dante sat back on his heels, admiring his work. Laura had never felt so exposed, so seen.
"Now you," he said, offering her the clay pot.
Laura blinked in surprise. "Me?"
"It's an exchange," he explained. "I mark you, you mark me. Equal strength, equal claiming."
The word 'claiming' hung in the air between them. Laura dipped her fingers into the cool clay and began tracing symbols on Dante's broad chest, copying what she had seen others doing.
"Tell me what they mean," she said, drawing a curved line across his pectoral.
"That one is for victory in battle," he said, watching her fingers move against h
