As if remembering with her, Cyril also felt the memory of the kisses pressed against his lip, the overwhelming desire to touch and to be closer than what was really possible. Instincts heightened by the liquor dulling their senses, their higher thinking process. Every touch whether with their lips or just her fingers brushing against his arms and chest, had felt like both a shock and a comfort. Which really lent credence to the exact words Piritta had just said. "It certain seems possible," he murmured, studying her and considering the mark that was displayed on his chest. She certainly seemed like the type to have a dragonfly type mark. "I mean not having a mate at thirty is a bit bizarre, but if you're young. Well of course it makes sense."