“If you keep doing that,” she manages to breathe, “Mordred, I won’t wait until tomorrow night.” She breaks away from the kissing and props her chin on his chest, then frowns slightly and sits up to pull the shirt away. “What’s this?” Gently she touches the triskele marking.
He glances down at his chest to the triskele he often forgot adorned the skin. “A druid symbol,” he tells her, watching her fingers before he looks at her face. “All druids are given it at birth, it’s blended with a special magic so that the ink never fades.”
Summer traces the curves with a fingertip, then kisses the mark. “There is a whole community of magic folk? I wish I could meet others.”