The year someone turns 18 they have the opportunity to be injected with a serum that will produce a soulmate mark somewhere on their body. This serum is costly and the procedure to get the injection is not covered by insurance.
A rare illness cropp...
Hobi drags me out of the house and outside. Per normal I am expecting an SUV, or three, lined up with security guards patiently waiting for us so they can chauffeur us to our next location. But there aren't two or three SUVs there waiting. Hell, there isn't even one there waiting. Instead there is a trendy looking red sports car.
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I hear a gentle jingle like sound and turn to determine the noise. In his hand Hobi is jiggling a key ring. "Let's not stand around here all day, Petal." He walks up to the passenger side door and opens it for me. "Let's go!"
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I find out pretty fast that Hobi looks damn good in the driver seat of this car, probably any car. There is something sexy about the way he smoothly slinks into the seat, grabs a pair of glasses from the visor, puts them on, turns the key to start the ignition, wraps the long digits of his left hand around the steering wheel, and wraps the ones on his right hand around the gear shift. After only a few minutes of driving I already know I am in trouble when I find myself clenching my thighs tightly together in some kind of effort to stem off the heated desired coiling in my core. Every single time he switches gears I find myself shifting in my seat. He grins over at me slyly for a brief moment, and I know that he is quite aware of my body's intuitive response to the way he is taking charge over this machine.
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I honestly don't know how long it takes us to get to our destination. It could be five minutes. It could be an hour or two. The real problem is that it feels like five years. I'm pretty damn sure if we hadn't turned into a parking garage recently that I would have spontaneously combusted in the plush leather seat.
