CHAPTER 3:THE MARK
2020 Words
“Mark her tonight.”
Silver Creek’s Alpha, Kane, says it like he’s laying down a bet. Like he already knows Adrian Vale won’t do it. Can’t do it. Not to rogue blood.
The great hall goes dead silent.
Fifty pack members line the walls. Warriors. Elders. Omegas who’ve scrubbed my cellar floor for four years without meeting my eyes. Now they stare. Hungry. Waiting.
At the far end, Councilman Reed strokes his silver beard. Old wolf. Old law. He’s been trying to clip Adrian’s claws since Adrian took the Alpha title at nineteen.
“A mark proves the bond,” Reed says. His voice carries. Meant for the crowd. “Unmarked Lunas have been… contested before.”
Contested. Pretty word for stolen. For bred. For killed.
Adrian’s hand is still on my lower back. It was possessive before. Now it’s a vise. His thumb digs into my spine through the thin black dress. Warning or claim, I can’t tell.
I don’t flinch. I spent four years learning how not to flinch.
Instead I look at Kane and smile. It’s not a Luna’s smile. It’s a rogue’s. Teeth and threat. “Are you offering to hold me down, Alpha Kane?”
The hall sucks in a collective breath.
You don’t talk to Alphas like that. Especially not rogue housemaids playing dress-up in Luna silk.
Kane’s face goes red. His wolf pushes at his eyes, turning them gold. “Watch your mouth, rogue.”
“She’s not rogue,” Adrian says.
The ice in his voice drops the temperature ten degrees. I feel it through the bond. Feel his wolf rising, lethal and cold.
“She’s Luna,” Adrian continues. Each word is a blade. “My Luna. And you will address her as such, or I’ll tear your throat out on council grounds.”
Kane’s wolf submits. Not completely. Just enough. He steps back, but his eyes stay on me. On my neck. On the bare skin where a mate mark should be. Where it isn’t.
Reed isn’t done. “Be that as it may, Alpha Vale, the council requires proof. Law is law. A contract without consummation is paper. A Luna without a mark is prey.”
Consummation.
The word lands heavy. Dirty.
My face burns. I hate that it burns. I’ve been called worse than rogue. Been treated worse. But standing here in front of fifty wolves, with Adrian’s heat at my back and his scent in my lungs, the word feels like hands.
Adrian drops his hand from my back.
The loss is instant. Cold. The bond stretches, aches. My wolf whines inside my ribs.
“Fine,” Adrian says.
One word. No emotion. No heat.
He grabs my wrist. His fingers circle it completely, engulfing. Not a mate’s hold. A jailer’s.
“We’ll mark,” he says. “Now.”
He drags me out of the hall.
No one stops us. No one would dare. The pack parts like water around a shark. Whispers follow us. _Rogue Luna. Fake claim. He’ll reject her after the bite. Watch._
We don’t speak until we’re in his office. _His_ office. This morning it was the place he sentenced me to a contract. Now it’s a cage.
The marriage contract is still on his desk. My signature next to his. _Elena Kieran. Adrian J. Vale._ Black ink. Wet with lies.
Adrian slams the door. The lock clicks. Loud as a gunshot.
For a second, we just breathe.
He’s across the room before I blink. Pacing. Like a caged wolf. Which he is. We both are. His hands are fisted at his sides. The tendons in his neck stand out.
The bond between us is a live wire. Furious. Starving. It’s been four hours since he found me in the cellar, four hours since the Goddess tied my soul to his, and we’ve been at war since.
“You happy?” His voice is low. Sandpaper and sin. “You got your public spectacle. Your Luna moment.”
“You signed the contract,” I say. My voice shakes. I lock my knees so he doesn’t see. “You called me Vale. In front of the council. In front of Kane.”
“I called you a means to an end!” He spins to face me. His eyes are storm-gray, flecked with black. Alpha black. “Do you know what happens if I mark you, Elena? Really mark you?”
He says my name like it hurts him.
“The bond locks,” he continues. He stalks toward me. Each step measured. Controlled. Lethal. “No dissolve. No six-month out. No annulment. You’re mine. Forever. Stuck with me. With this pack. With the blood on my hands.”
_Forever._
My wolf throws herself at my ribs. _Yes,_ she howls. _Mate. Ours. Forever._
I hate her. I hate the way my body sways toward him. I hate the way my scent changes—sweetens—just because he’s in the room.
“And if you don’t mark me?” I force the words out. I have to. For my brother. For the boy who’s been in Adrian’s dungeon for four years. “Kane challenges. The council voids the contract. My brother dies. I die. Is that better?”
Adrian stops. Three feet away. Too far. Not far enough.
“Your brother,” he says. The words are ice picks. “The rogue spawn. He’s been plotting escape for months. Did you know that?”
My blood goes cold. “What?”
“He’s been talking to guards. Making deals. Promising them things.” Adrian’s lip curls. “Rogue blood breeds rogue crimes. Just like your father.”
“My brother was eight!” I shout. The sound tears out of me. Four years of silence, breaking. “Eight years old when you executed our father! He didn’t pick this! He didn’t choose to be born Kieran!”
“Neither did I choose to be saddled with a Kieran as a mate!” Adrian roars back.
The windows rattle. The bond flares, white-hot and violent.
We stare at each other. Chests heaving. Wolves snarling just under the skin.
This is what we are. Mate and enemy. Fated and furious.
I make myself move. One step. Two. Into his space. Into the hurricane.
“Take it off,” I say.
His eyes drop to my throat. To the silver collar I’ve worn for four years. The one that mutes my wolf. Mutes my scent. Mutes _him_.
“No.”
“Take. It. Off.” I tilt my head. Bare my neck. The vein in my throat jumps. Where his teeth belong. Where the Goddess marked me for him. “You want to mark me? You want to prove to Reed and Kane that I’m yours? Then do it right.”
Adrian’s nostrils flare. He can smell me. All of me. Fear. Rage. Want. The mate bond doesn’t let us lie.
“You’re a rogue,” he says. But his voice is wrecked now. Rough. “I don’t trust you in my room without silver. I don’t trust you at my throat.”
“I’m your mate,” I whisper. “And you’re mine. Silver or not. Cellar or not. Contract or not.”
Something breaks in his face.
He’s on me before I finish the sentence.
One hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back. Not gentle. He’s not gentle. He’s Alpha. He’s fury. The other hand goes to my collar.
“This is not a claim,” he snarls against my ear. His breath is hot. His body is a wall of muscle and wrath. “This is survival. This is politics. This is me keeping my pack alive.”
“Liar,” I breathe.
His fingers find the clasp. Silver clicks.
The collar falls.
It hits the carpet with a dull thud.
The bond detonates.
It’s like breaking the surface after four years underwater. Air. Fire. _Him._ His scent—cedar, snow, blood, and something dark that’s purely Adrian—slams into me. My wolf surges, screaming _mate_ so loud I can’t hear myself think.
Adrian makes a sound. Low. Broken. His forehead drops to my shoulder. He’s shaking. Or I am. Both of us.
“I can smell you,” he says. The words are scraped raw. “All of you. Every goddamn inch. Goddammit, Elena.”
My name. Again. Not rogue. Not contract. _Elena._
I fist his shirt. The silk is expensive. Cool. I want to rip it off. I want to claw it off and see if his skin is as hot as the bond says it is.
“Then mark me,” I say. I’m not begging. Alphas don’t beg. Mates don’t beg. “If you’re going to do it, do it. Stop talking.”
He lifts his head.
His eyes are gone. Human gone. They’re pure Alpha black. Endless. His wolf is right there, staring out at me. Staring at his mate.
“Last chance,” he breathes. His lips are a centimeter from mine. I can taste his breath. Taste the storm. “Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this. Say it, and I walk away. I’ll find another way to deal with Reed.”
I should. God, I should. I should tell him I’d rather die than carry his bite. That I’d rather rot in the cellar than be tied to the male who orphaned me.
Instead I look him in the eye and say, “Make it hurt.”
He breaks.
His mouth crashes onto mine.
It’s not a kiss. Kisses are soft. Kisses are for humans.
This is a claim. Teeth and tongue and four years of hate pouring out. Four hours of mate bond starvation ending. Four seconds of _finally_ before the world ends.
I bite his lip. Hard. Taste blood. Taste winter.
He growls—the sound vibrates in my chest—and walks me backward. My spine hits the edge of his desk. Papers scatter. The marriage contract flutters to the floor. Our signatures land face up, mocking us.
His hands are everywhere. My waist. My hips. Sliding up my ribs. In my hair, pulling until my scalp stings. He can’t decide if he wants to bruise me or worship me. Maybe both.
“Elena,” he groans into my mouth. My name again. Ruined. Reverent. “f**k, Elena.”
His mouth leaves mine. I want to protest. Then his lips are on my jaw. My throat. Lower.
He finds the spot. The place where neck meets shoulder. Where his mark would go. Where the bond says it _will_ go.
His teeth graze.
My whole body bows. Off the desk. Into him. The bond sings, a high, sharp note. My wolf goes liquid, submitting, begging. _Yes. Please. Now._
Adrian’s breathing is ragged. Out of control. “Tell me to stop,” he says again. His lips move against my skin. “Say it. Say you don’t want this. Now, Elena.”
I can’t. I can’t speak. I can’t think. There’s only him. Only the pull. Only the ache where his teeth are.
My hands are in his hair. I don’t know if I’m holding him there or pushing him away.
I open my mouth. To say yes. To say no. To say something.
The door crashes open.
“Alpha!” Marcus yells. He stops dead when he sees us.
Adrian wrenches away from me. The movement is violent. Instant. Like I electrocuted him.
I stumble. Slump against the desk. Gasping. My lips are swollen. Wet. My neck throbs where his teeth didn’t break skin but promised to.
Marcus is pale. He won’t look at me. He stares at a point over Adrian’s shoulder. “Alpha. It’s the dungeon. It’s—”
“Spit it out!” Adrian snaps. He’s still breathing hard. His eyes are still black. His lips are red with my blood or his, I don’t know.
“It’s your brother, Luna,” Marcus says. The word _Luna_ sounds strangled. “The rogue. Liam Kieran.”
My heart stops.
“He’s escaped.”
- Writer
