You shove Scar away, breathless, knees weak.

Your neck tingles where his fingers brushed your resonance mark—raw, oversensitive, humiliatingly reactive.

Scar licks the taste of you off his lips, slow and hungry.

“Still sensitive there… you never changed.”

Heat rushes up your face. You yank your hand out of his grip.

“Stay the hell away from me.”

Scar steps back with his hands raised in mock surrender—

but the look in his eyes is razor-sharp, wild, knowing.

Then, with that dangerously calm confidence only he can pull off, he steps close again. Not grabbing. Not forcing. Just… there, blocking you without touching you.

He lifts your chin with one gloved finger, tilting your head just enough to expose the side of your neck.

Your skin throbs, a deep purple bruise where he kissed your before, a hickey now forming.

He smirks, low and satisfied.

“Still your weak spot huh?~”

You slap his hand away, furiously flustered.

“I told you not to touch me there.”

His grin widens, wicked and intimate.

“You used to beg me to though~”

Your breath stutters. Heat floods your cheeks, your pulse jumping exactly where his fingers had been.

You try to step around him.

He moves the same way he fights—smooth, effortless, infuriating—

sliding into your path again.

No grabbing.

No forcing.

Just blocking you with that unbearable Scar arrogance, like he already knows you’ll react.

And he does.

Because your body betrays you before your words ever can.