When he shook his head, my stomach sank in disappointment.
“No one will know your animal until you shift and she shows herself to the world,” he replied. “Not even she knows what she will become. Right now she is just an essence, waiting to take shape. Waiting to embody her own space without having to fight you for control.”
“Do you ever fight your dragon for control when in the dragon form?”
“I did once.” His smile was fond. “I wanted to fly. I caused us to fall out of the sky and into a lake. Thankfully, he took over again before we drowned. That was the first and last time. And usually he doesn’t step into my skin. It’s just… Well, he is not overly fond of how I am handling things with you.”
“Because you’re a terrible lover, that’s why.”
“Obviously, yes. You’ve hit it on the nose.”
I laughed, not bothering to look at the changing sky, as beautiful as it was, nearly full morning now. I traced his chin instead, finding a little scar hidden in the dark reddish-brown stubble.
“I didn’t feel it before,” I said.
“Feel what?” he asked
“The bond. I didn’t feel your dragon’s touch inside of us. Me.”
“It was only half realized. Only when both parties agree and establish the bond does it manifest. It’s then you feel each other intimately through it. After that, if there is intense love and devotion, the couple imprints, solidifying their bond for life.”
“But my animal said she accepted the bond last time.”
“But you didn’t. I didn’t.”
“And now?”
He gave me a long look. “You feel it, don’t you?”
“Was it you just now, or did he take over again?” I asked.
“Me.”
I let my eyes close, and a smile budded on my lips. “My animal pushed me out of the way to ask you to bite me.”
“Hmm.”
I couldn’t tell what that meant, but passion washed through the link.
“Biting is a shifter thing, huh?” I asked.
“Biting is marking, and yes, marking is a shifter thing. She asked me to bite you because marking you where the shoulder meets the neck is traditionally a shifter way of claiming a…person.”
Butterflies filled my stomach. It almost sounded like he’d been about to say “mate.” Which was the exact feeling that had come over me when he bit me on the middle part of my neck—that he was marking me as his. I knew it wasn’t an actual claim, but I had felt the sentiment.
I went ahead and filled in the blank. “A mate?”
“Yes,” he said softly.
“So if you claim someone, you are basically mating?”
“If a shifter claims someone, that person usually becomes their mate. The reason is because it usually happens in moments of strong feeling and blind love, and the couple then needs to figure out what to do about it. The effects of claiming are forever. A person can be claimed by multiple parties, but the scent of each is always there. However, mating itself doesn’t require love, like imprinting does. It really just needs the agreement of both parties. If the claiming didn’t happen before the mating, then it will traditionally happen after to further establish their agreement.”
“If I were claimed by five people—” He stiffened and dipped his head, running his teeth along my neck. I shivered but continued, “I’d smell like all five?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s it?” I asked. “You just bite me on the shoulder, and I’m claimed?”
“No. With my dragon’s help, I…secrete sounds bad, but… I secrete a pheromone that will soak into your skin. It’ll ensure my scent weaves in with yours. Other shifters will know you’ve been claimed. That you are mine, and if they flirt or touch you or…whatever, it is a challenge against me.”
“And you’ll…”
“Kill them,” he growled. “Swiftly. With pleasure.”
I bit my lip. That admission shouldn’t have been so hot. “And then, what, you just get to flirt your way through the castle?”
“You would mark me, too, if you wanted to lay a claim on me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He adjusted his position uncomfortably. “A mate’s mark isn’t always welcomed.”
“People lay it on others against their will?”
“No. That is forbidden. The punishment is death. But with arranged matings, a couple might mark each other without sharing a true connection. Sometimes the male will mark the female to claim her, trying to ensure she doesn’t bed anyone but him, and she does not desire to return the mark.”
“Your mother didn’t mark your father,” I guessed.
“Correct, and it was a source of great contention because it showed the world that she did not want him. That she was there out of duty and nothing else. He tried to beat her into doing it, and she would not.”
“He beat her?”
His expression turned hard and rage lit his eyes. “Yes. Another dark secret. She tried to hide the bruises, but I have excellent eyesight. I could see her bruised face in the garden when I was locked in the tower. She did not bend, though. I respected her more for it. I just wished I could’ve helped her.”