Slowly, he scrapes it off, and I’m suddenly fascinated with the careful way he handles the mess, even though he misses a big part of it.
“Wait.” I drag my thumb across his temple, smearing it into his hair instead of actually removing it. “Oops. I think I just made it worse.” I sputter helplessly. “Oh, my God. You’re gonna need a shower.”
He sighs dramatically, running a hand through his hair. We all laugh again.
I offer him a napkin. He gets the worst of it off, then wipes his face. Tossing the napkins aside, he licks his fingers, finally shaking his head in amusement. Between the still-stunned expression, his soft smile, and the icing in his hair, I get the sudden urge to kiss him.
Gods, I want to.
So bad.
But not here. Not with everyone watching.
And definitely not when I still don’t know if it’s safe to want anything at all.
I swallow it down and reach for another candy cane instead. “Do you want to go shower or help me finish?”
He sighs. “We might as well finish.”
Behind us, Jericho and Evan are arguing. “It’s about the layers, Ev,” Jericho says. “If you want the second floor to hold, you have to secure the base. Build it up first, in layers. See?”
Taren freezes mid-bite of a gumdrop. Her eyes go wide. “Moons above,” she whispers, attention snapping to me.
Without another word, she circles the table and lifts my sleeve, fingers brushing the mark.
Pain lances up my arm. “Taren—”
“Hold still.” She leans in, eyes narrowed as she studies the mark. I try to pull away, but she grabs my arm tight. I wince.
“Taren,” Rowen says, almost as a warning.
“I was right,” she breathes. “Holy shit. I see it now!” Her golden eyes lift to mine. “It’s not a single sigil. It’s three.”
“What?”
She waves the others over. “Forest, Grant, come here.”
Their smiles fade as half the pack gathers around me. My pulse spikes, heat crawling up my neck as everyone stares.
So much for the good time.
“I don’t get it,” Grant says. “What am I supposed to see?”
Taren grabs a napkin from the table, sketching fast with one of the icing pens. “I thought it was one symbol, but it’s not. It’s three, but they’re layered,” she says, smiling up at Jericho.
The entire room is listening now.
“What does that mean?” Jasmine asks.
Taren points to her sketch. “The hexagon is a claiming rune, for ownership. The jagged line is a shielding ward, for protection. It prevents others from harming him. And this one… this curve means duration. It seals the bond for a length of time.”
Silence.
Rowen’s voice is low as he asks, “How long?”
“Well, that I don’t know, but I can—”
“It’s a life sentence,” I say, tugging at my sleeve. I can’t look at anyone, my throat tightening. “He said as much when he branded me.”
