A few hours had passed since the rain subsided, leaving them intertwined beneath the ethereal, blood-red feathery wings of Zakiel. Drusilla, a mischievous glint in her eyes, gazed at Corwin's neck, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. 'I have officially made him mine,' she thought, her fingers delicately traversing his chest, exploring the intricate tapestry of scars and bruises.
Inquisitiveness painted her voice as she examined his markings, "These are quite interesting. Where did you get them?" Corwin, a guarded expression on his face, gently grasped her hand, redirecting it toward his visage. "It's not something I want to talk about," he confided.
"Hmm," she responded thoughtfully, bestowing a kiss on his forehead. "I feel inclined to respect your wishes. You like someone else, don't you?"
