The Mark
698 Words
Chapter Three: The Mark
Aria didn’t sleep that night.
The bond was alive, crawling under her skin, teasing her senses.
She’d seen the restraint in him. Felt it like a wall between them.
But there would come a moment when restraint broke.
And gods help them both when it did.
---
The next day
She was escorted into the great hall.
Not by chains. Not by force.
By invitation.
The room was filled—wolves of all ranks, court members, generals, and soldiers. They all turned when she entered, murmurs rising like wind.
The cursed omega. The prophecy girl. The Alpha’s mate.
Lucien stood at the head of the table, wine in hand. He looked like sin incarnate—dark pants, leather straps across his chest, silver armor discarded like he didn’t need protection.
Because he didn’t.
He raised his glass.
“Aria Vale,” he said. “Daughter of the Moonborn line. The last of her kind. You stand in the court of your king.”
Aria met his gaze, voice cold. “I don’t bow to monsters.”
A few gasped.
Lucien just smiled.
“Then I suppose you’ll kneel when the bond finishes what it started.”
The court murmured again—but Aria barely heard it.
Because her body—traitorous and wild—began to burn.
A searing pain bloomed at the base of her neck. She cried out, falling to her knees, clutching at her skin.
The mark was forming.
Lucien was there in an instant, dropping beside her. She tried to fight him, push him away—but her strength vanished.
The room vanished.
All she saw was him.
His hand cradled her jaw. “Breathe, omega.”
Her vision blurred. “What’s happening to me?”
“The bond. You resisted too long. It’s forcing its mark.”
He bent, lips brushing her ear.
“I could ease it. If you let me.”
She hated him.
But gods, she wanted the pain to stop.
Her lips parted—and she whispered, “Then do it.”
And Lucien—Alpha King, cursed beast, her enemy and her fated mate—bit her.
Not to wound.
To claim.
The pain turned to fire.
Then to something she wasn’t ready to name.
---
Aria
The pain didn’t stop—it changed.
From searing heat to ice. Then to something deeper. Darker.
The moment Lucien’s teeth pierced her neck, a pulse of energy exploded in her chest.
She gasped—sharp, loud—and then everything else blurred.
Heat crashed into her. Memory. Sound. Touch.
She couldn’t tell where her body ended and his began.
Bond. Bond. Bond.
It echoed in her blood, her bones.
Lucien didn’t move. He stayed locked to her throat, his hands curled into her waist, holding her steady while her body arched against him, trembling.
She didn’t moan. She didn’t beg.
But she didn’t resist either.
And when he pulled back, her mark—his mark—was burning like fire against her pale skin.
A crescent moon. Silver-gold. Still glowing.
He looked at it like a man possessed.
Then he looked at her.
And for a single, fragile moment—he looked terrified.
“You weren’t supposed to feel that much,” he whispered, more to himself than her.
Aria swayed, her breath ragged. “What… what did you do to me?”
Lucien stood slowly, his body taut, trembling.
But not from power.
From fear.
“I claimed you,” he said, but there was no pride in his voice. “But the bond… it’s feeding on something else. Something older. It’s not just mating. It’s merging.”
She stared up at him, skin still alight with heat and shame and confusion. “Merging?”
He looked down at her—this girl who should have been prey, now glowing like a star torn from the sky.
His hand hovered over her throat. But he didn’t touch her.
“I don’t know what you are,” Lucien said softly. “But you’re not just mine anymore.”
And with that, he turned and left the hall—shaken for the first time in a decade.
- Writer
