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“You are sure?”

“Yes.”

I bent my head and set my mouth to the mark, and I felt the skin part under my teeth, warm and sweet and exactly right. He arched under me with a shout that shook the rafters, and he came, hot and hard, all over his own chest and mine, his body seizing around me in waves. I drank once and twice, and the bond flooded through me like light. I let go a moment later, buried deep, with a roar that I had not known I owned, my cock pulsing inside him until I had nothing left.

I collapsed on top of him, shuddering. His hand came up and caught the back of my head and dragged my shoulder to his mouth.

“Lex—”

He bit me. It was not the bite of a vampire. It was blunt and human and clumsy, and it hurt a little. His teeth sank into my shoulder just above the old scar and held, and I gasped, and then, to my astonishment, I felt something answer. A warmth spread beneath the skin, sudden and bright, like a candle lit behind it. I lifted my head and looked down. On my shoulder, where his teeth had been, a small silver crescent was forming.

We stared at it.

“What,” said Lex hoarsely, “was that?”

“It is not possible.”

“It’s right there.”

“The old ones said that only the vampire marks.” My voice was faint. “They said that the human receives. They never said—”

“They never said anything about me, huh?” He was grinning, drunk on it, breathless and glowing. “I guess nobody told the old guys.”

I began to laugh. I could not stop. It came up from somewhere beneath my ribs, a helpless, ringing, joyful laugh that shook the bed and made the fire jump, and I laughed until tears ran down my face. Lex laughed with me, and we lay there tangled and sticky and spent, howling like idiots.

“We’re married,” he wheezed.

“We are.”

“We have matching hickeys.”

“We do.”

“Mom’s gonna lose it.”

“She will be ecstatic.”

“She’ll want a photo.”

“She will not receive one.”

“She’ll get it from Jenny.”

I kissed him. I could not help it. He tasted of salt and iron and honey, and I said against his mouth, “I love you,” and he said “I know,” and then, almost shyly, “I love you too, husband.”

“Husband.”

“Sounds weird.”

“It sounds like a thing I will never tire of hearing.”

We lay in the firelight for a long time. The logs shifted. Outside the wind was rising, and the snow drifted softly against the glass. He put his head on my chest. I ran my fingers slowly through his hair. It was nearly dawn when I felt him stir.

“Maksim?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”