Thea
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His every kiss, every touch and hot breath inflamed me even more. He abruptly changed our position, throwing me on the bed and climbing on top, without interrupting the contact between our lips.
In forgetfulness, I ran my hands over his shoulders, caressing the velvety skin on his strong body and realized that there was no longer a depression on his shoulder. I broke off and pushed his chest a little with my hand, forcing him to get up, but still be in the rider's pose.
There was no limit to my shock. The wound evaporated as if it had never existed. Just like it was with my wounds after that magic potion that Raphael shared with me.
I wasn't stupid enough not to realize that there was no carmine acid in that potion. It was his blood. My premonition for the first time did not deceive me, I definitely remembered this metallic taste.
His blood has this mystical property of healing wounds.
