[The emotions that responded were complex. That reluctance remained, accompanied by a little flicker of dread and at the same time an understanding. There was certainly no hiding the way the fur at her shoulders bristled slightly in excitement under Chariot's hands when she said 'mark' again. That now-familiar guilt simmered under it all. Hadn't she scarred Chariot enough?]

[But Chariot was so taken with the idea--her conviction was steady and warm, a surety that couldn't only be born of the copious amount of wine she'd had.]

[Fang swallows, laying her head on Chariot's shoulder as she mulled it over. Idly, the hand on her thigh began to stroke again. ]

It'll hurt, [she warned. ] If you want something that's go to scar that well. Not too keen on making you bleed, [Fang admitted. ]

But if you're heart's set on it, you'll get it.