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His Regret

[Fineon’s POV]

"Repeat that." Fallon hisses, seeming genuinely shocked by my question. "I don’t think I heard you right."

Didn’t hear me correctly? Yeah right.

"I said," I begin, leaning so close that our noses are almost touching. "What is that mark on your back?"

Earlier on, when we were walking back to the packhouse, I thought I saw something strange through her shirt, but I figured that it wasn’t anything serious. However, when she abruptly turned to take me in, I knew something was wrong just by the fear in her eyes.

And when she hurried away, I was able to examine it a bit more, but I couldn’t determine what exactly it was.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." She says slowly, trying to feign ignorance. "The only mark I know of is..."

"Don’t," I warn, feeling a pang of pain shoot through me as my eyes unconsciously go to the small bit of my mark that mars her skin. "Don’t try to hide it by diverting."

Reaching out, I let my hand rest on Fallon’s back as she remains unmoving
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