Marked as His Slave, Born as His Mate.

Chapter Three: The Alpha in My Bones

The silence left in his wake is louder than his presence.

I don’t move for a long time. I just lie there, sprawled across silk sheets, legs parted, skin flushed and sticky from what he did to me.

What I did to myself after he left.

I should feel humiliated.

But instead, I feel… haunted.

My n*pples are still tight, painfully sensitive against the cool air. My p***y aches—empty and twitching from too many orgasms without relief. Every breath makes me aware of how tender I am. Like my body belongs to someone else now. Like I was carved open and filled with nothing but his scent.

And still… he didn’t f**k me.

He could have. I would’ve begged for it.

But he left.

And that somehow ruins me more than if he’d stayed.

I force myself to sit up. My thighs tremble, sore from the way they tensed around his mouth. My inner thighs are still slick with my release. I need to clean myself. I need to breathe.

The en-suite bathroom is tucked behind a thick wooden door. I open it slowly, half-expecting him to be there, waiting.

He’s not.

The lights glow softly when I step inside. The bathroom is luxurious—white marble, gold fixtures, a deep soaking tub, and a glass-walled shower with jets built into the sides. I’ve never seen anything like it.

For a moment, I just stare at my reflection in the mirror.

My lips are swollen, pink and bitten. My cheeks are still flushed. There’s a faint red mark on my neck from where his teeth grazed me.

I look… owned.

But there’s something in my eyes too. Something I’ve never seen before.

Power?

No. Surrender.

I strip out of what’s left of my ruined underclothes and step into the shower. The hot water hits me like a spell, steaming over my raw skin, washing away the scent of slick and lust. My head tips back as the warmth slides down between my breasts, across my stomach, over my thighs.

I slide my fingers down to rinse between my legs. I hiss.

I’m sore.

His mouth did more damage than I realized. I rinse gently, taking slow, deep breaths.

I shouldn’t be thinking about him again.

But I do.

Over and over.

His hands. His mouth. The way he looked at me—like I was prey he’d already gutted and now planned to devour.

My knees almost buckle again. I grip the tile wall, grounding myself in the sensation of water. Of now. Of the fact that I’m not under him.

I finish quickly and towel off, slipping into a plush robe I find hanging behind the door. To my surprise, the wardrobe in the bedroom has been stocked. There’s a stack of soft sleep shirts, loose-fitting bottoms, delicate underthings that scream you’re not a servant anymore.

I pull on a long, oversized black shirt. It smells faintly of cedar and smoke—like it’s been near his clothes.

Gods help me.

I wander through the room, trying to focus on anything but the persistent throb between my legs. The ache isn’t just physical anymore. It’s deeper than that. It's in my chest.

My blood.

My bones.

I’m changing.

And it’s all because of him.

I run my fingers along the edges of the shelves built into the far wall. Most omegas don’t even get books. We get rules. Duties. Quiet corners and scraped trays. But here—someone left a selection just for me. A few well-worn novels. Classic literature. A collection of old shifter legends.

My fingers trail over the spines, pausing on one with a worn leather cover and gold-embossed lettering: *The Moon’s Curse: Tales of Omega Bonds.*

I open it slowly, fingers trembling. It smells dusty and old, like something forbidden. The first page reads:

> “To be chosen is to be bound. To be marked is to be owned. But to be mated? That is to burn.”

I shut the book fast.

Too real. Too close.

I choose a lighter story—something with a forest, a distant war, something far removed from the weight pressing into my chest.

I curl up on the bed with the book in hand. The sheets are warm. The room is still. But I can’t focus.

Every time I turn the page, I think about the sound his voice made when he growled into my p***y. The way he said “You taste like mine.”

I shift, thighs rubbing together, heat blooming again even though I’m clean, dry, tucked away.

I can’t escape it.

The pull.

The need.

I close the book eventually.

My eyes sting with exhaustion.

My limbs are heavy.

The silence no longer feels threatening.

It feels… hollow.

I roll onto my side, pressing my face into the pillow. It smells like fresh linen.

But I wish it smelled like him.

I hate that I want that.

I hate that I want him.

How did I end up here? How did my life spiral from scrubbing pans in the lower wing to lying in silk sheets, naked under an alpha’s orders?

And worse—why does part of me like it?

The old me would’ve fought.

Bitten.

Screamed.

But that girl’s voice is quiet now. Fading.

Because something new is blooming inside me. Something that wants to be touched, owned, filled.

Something omega.

I shut my eyes, forcing myself to rest. My body is still tender, twitching with ghost sensations. My c**t throbs every time I move. But slowly, I breathe through it. Let the haze soften.

Sleep creeps up on me like a fog, curling through my limbs.

And as I finally drift off, the last thought in my mind is him.

Not his voice.

Not his title.

Just him.

Raze.

The Alpha I should fear.

The male my body has already chosen.

__________________________________________

••••••••RAZE POV••••••••

She doesn’t know yet.

Not about the bond.

Not about the way her scent is etched into my lungs.

Not about the quiet madness growing inside me every second I’m away from her.

She doesn’t feel the pull like I do. Not fully. Not yet.

But it’s there—deep in her bones. Her wolf is stirring. Restless. I can sense it pressing at her skin, desperate to rise.

She’s close to her first shift.

And when that happens, the truth will hit her like lightning.

The bond.

Me.

Us.

She’ll know we were made for each other.

But until then… I wait.

Barely.

I’m already past the edge of control. I can’t stop thinking about her—how her body opened for me, how sweet she tasted when I had her legs shaking around my head, how she cried out my name like she was already mine.

And goddess, the things I want to do to her.

I want to take her on the bed, her back arched, wrists pinned. I want to bend her over the windowsill with the moonlight on her skin and f**k her until the entire pack hears her scream. I want to drag her into the shower, press her against the glass while hot water pours down her chest, and slide into her so deep she forgets where she ends and I begin.

I want to taste her again. And again. Until she begs me not to stop.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

Her body is calling for me, but her wolf hasn’t surfaced—and if I take her now, it could hurt her. The bond could fracture, or worse… force the shift before she’s ready.

And I would never forgive myself for that.

So I stand here, in the dark, teeth bared behind my lips, jaw locked tight as I breathe her in through the vents.

Her scent curls through the hall like a taunt.

Warm.

Wet.

Sweet.

It’s driving me mad.

And still… I don’t touch her.

Because when I do?

There won’t be anything left of the man they call Alpha Raze.

There will only be the mate.

The claim.

And Ava—shifting beneath me, crying my name, lost to the bond we were born to complete.

So I wait. For her wolf. For the moment she feels it—not just the heat, not just the ache, but the truth.

She’s mine.

And the second her shift breaks through?

I’ll take her.

Everywhere.

Every way.

And never let her go.