Chapter 7 Marked

• THE WORLD exploded in sensation. Waldemar’s kiss wasn't an act of love, or even passion, but a raw, forceful consumption. It was meant to dominate, to break, to prove his terrifying words true. And for a terrifying, fleeting moment, it worked. The aching need that had simmered beneath Selene’s skin roared to life, demanding, aching, shattering her composure. His tongue plunged into her mouth, hot and insistent, tangling with hers in a primal dance of surrender and conquest.
• She tasted him – wild and untamed, like the ancient forests that surrounded them, mixed with a hint of something deeper, something intrinsically male.
• Her hands, which had been pressing against his chest, moved without conscious thought, clutching at his shoulders, her fingers digging into the hard planes of his muscles. The silk tunic she wore felt too constricting, her skin too sensitive. Every nerve ending seemed to be vibrating, a high-pitched hum of desperate longing.