4
1183 Words
Killian’s POV
I woke up with pain.
Not the acute, but the throbbing, painful soreness that sat down in my muscles and would not be gone. I had a headache as though I had been hit with a hammer, and my body ached in places I had no idea even existed.
I opened my eyes slowly and looked at the vacant side beside me.
The recollections of the previous night came back to me as a sudden as possible, and dashed upon me like a runaway freight-train. The ball. The medicine smouldering in my veins. The room. The panic. And then—
Madeline.
Her face. Her voice. The manner she gazed at me with the fear and the determination combined.
“She was here,” I muttered.
I forced myself up and my heart began to beat. She could not have simply disappeared. I could still recall that she was by my side. I recalled how she had assisted me at the time when I was barely clinging on to my sanity.
Why wasn’t she here?
I kicked my legs out of the bed and sat up, forgetting about the pain in my body that was dull. I took my clothes off the chair and hastened to put them on.
Something was wrong.
I went out of the room and made my way directly to the main hall at which the ball was held last night. The hall was now silent, with only a small number of guards and servants sweeping up the residue of the previous evening party.
I stopped before two security guards.
“Did you see any woman walk out of this wing early this morning?” I asked.
They exchanged a glance.
“Yes,” one of them replied. “Madeline Ryan just left a couple of hours ago. She seemed in a hurry.”
Madeline.
My jaw tightened.
“Alright,” I said shortly. “Thank you.”
I left them before they could ask questions and returned to the room. I stood there a moment, looking down the bed, at the blank place where she ought to have been.
“She left,” I said to myself.
Did she regret it?
Did she panic?
Or was she afraid I would turn her away after I had regained my senses?
I decided to head home, changing here would not change a thing. The journey back to the palace seemed to be longer than normal. I could not calm my mind down, however much I tried to divert attention to other things.
My head was still throbbing when I got there.
I immediately proceeded to my chambers and closed the door. The quietness closed in on me, and unconsciously I was once more thinking of Madeline.
The manner in which she stared at me last night.
The manner in which she was not hesitant to assist me at a time when she could have easily shirked.
Why did she leave?
I shook my head and dragged my legs to the bathroom. A cold shower cleared the fog somewhat out of my head, although it did not remove the weird ache in my chest.
As I went out and took a towel, I saw my reflection in the mirror, but something else caught my attention.
Below my collarbone, was a mark.
I drew nearer to the mirror, and my heart beat faster.
“No,” I whispered.
I ran my fingers over it, feeling the tender flesh. The feeling caused a queer tug in my chest.
A mate mark.
My mind raced.
That couldn’t be possible.
And yet… I recalled the encounter vividly. The instinct. The loss of control. The excessive desire to possess, to defend, to own.
Madeline.
“I marked her,” I said in a hoarse voice.
A true mate mark.
I was soon clothed and went out of my chamber and made my way directly to the study of my uncle.
Uncle Raymond was seated behind his desk, examining some documents. He looked up when he saw me.
“Greetings uncle.” I said as I took a seat.
“You missed the rest of the ball,” he said indifferently. “Care to explain?”
“I need to talk to you,” I said.
His brows furrowed. “About what?”
“Something important.”
I took a deep breath. “Last night… I was drugged.”
His expression hardened. “What?”
I went on, “Two ladies put something into my drink. “I overheard them later. The drug was strong. I was not myself in the right frame of mind.”
“And?” he pressed.
“Madeline entered the room,” I said, and tightened my jaw. She knew what was taking place. She tried to help me.”
Raymond’s eyes narrowed.
“I told her to leave,” I said. “But she stayed. Things… happened.”
Silence filled the room.
“I slept with her,” I finished. “And I think I marked her.”
My uncle sat back in his chair, his face showed no sign of expression.
After a long moment, he spoke. “Assuming that a mark was on both of you, then it could be a real mate mark.”
My stomach sank.
He went on to explain that only true mate marks were visible on both partners. “Anything else would fade. If it was as a result of the drug or pure lust, it’s usually on the females, never on the males.”
“So what now?” I asked.
“We need to confirm,” he said. “Call her here. We must know whether she carries the mark, too, or not.
I nodded stiffly. “Send guards to her house. Bring her here.”
When I issued the order, it felt like a knot was in my chest.
“So what happens?” I asked, “in case she has the mark?”
The lips of Raymond twisted. “Then you have the one thing needed to become the alpha and claim the throne, a mate.”
The phrases struck more than I had imagined.
The Alpha throne.
It was the one thing I had been desiring since I could remember.
But another thought came into my mind. A darker one.
Madeline Ryan.
It was the girl who everybody thought killed my mother.
“I don’t love her,” I said flatly. “And I do not want this mark on her.”
Raymond raised an eyebrow. “Then you can’t have the throne.”
I clenched my fists.
I regretted what happened. I regretted losing control. I felt sad that Madeline was to be entangled now in something bigger than either of us.
And yet... the throne was reachable.
All I had to do was play along.
All I had to do was pretend I was in love with her, and the very second I got the throne and all I desired… I’d rid myself of her.
But what happens when she does not have the mark?”
- Writer
