MARKED WITHOUT ASKING

The Distance That Hurt Like Teeth

The first night alone, after leaving him at the edge of the forest, was the longest I had ever endured.

I told myself it was just instinct. That the tug in my chest, the ache curling low, was nothing more than anxiety. But my wolf knew better. She pressed against my ribs, sharp teeth scraping beneath my skin, growling low and warning me with every heartbeat.

The bond flared.

Not softly. Not subtly. But like wildfire lapping at dry leaves. I could feel it coil in my chest, tighten around my ribs, pulling at my stomach, my thighs, my hands. My pulse raced. My breath came shallow. Every movement betrayed me.

Run. My wolf hissed. Run and hide. Flee and he will find you.

Stay. My heart whispered. Stay, and learn what you’ve been marked with.

I wanted to obey neither. I curled under the thin blankets on my bed, curling my body like I could make the ache disappear. But the bond was relentless. It pulsed. It throbbed. It screamed at me that he was near, that he could find me even in the dark.

Sleep came in fits. Dreams full of gold eyes, hands restrained but pressing, teeth bared and yet tender. I awoke in a sweat, my wolf whimpering and pacing inside me. The ache had grown sharper. Every breath was pain, every heartbeat the echo of something I could not name.

By the second day, the pack had begun to notice. Whispers in the training grounds, subtle glances during meals. Elders’ eyes lingered on me, sharp and knowing, though no one dared speak. The bond was no longer invisible—it radiated from me like heat, even when I tried to hide it.

I trained with the younger females, forced myself to run with the pack, to hunt, to track, to maintain control. But every step, every jump, every sprint betrayed me. My wolf howled silently beneath my skin, frantic and desperate, clawing against my restraint.

Even the wind seemed to carry him. Pine, ash, moonlight, and something I couldn’t name—his essence, powerful and predatory—flowed through the forest, teasing my senses, igniting a heat I could not quell.

By the third night, I could no longer deny it. My wolf thrashed inside me, snarling, desperate. I felt it in my throat, my hands, my thighs—a tugging, pulling, a need that was impossible to ignore. I had thought distance would help. I had thought denying him would protect me. But the bond punished me for trying to flee. Every heartbeat, every breath reminded me that we were tied together, whether I accepted it or not.

On the fourth day, I saw him.

He waited at the edge of the training grounds, just beyond the pack’s line of sight. Gold eyes fixed on me. Calm, controlled, predatory. He did not step forward. He did not call my name. But I could feel him in my chest, in my mind, in the heat curling low. My wolf snarled and whined inside me, desperate to reach him, claws flexing, tail lashing.

“You’re showing,” he said quietly, voice soft but commanding.

I froze. Every muscle stiffened. “Showing… what?”

“The bond,” he said. “They can sense it. You cannot hide it from yourself either.”

I swallowed. The truth burned. The heat, the pull, the ache—my body betrayed me despite my mind’s desperate resistance. My wolf whimpered and pressed, relentless. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But I could not.

The pack began to notice. Whispers swirled. Some of the younger males sneered. A few females glared. They smelled the pull of the bond, even if they didn’t know its full power. Danger. Desire. Instinct. All tangled into a tension that made the air itself heavy.

He stepped closer. Not touching, just present. And the bond reacted violently. Heat flared, low in my belly, in my chest, in my hands and feet. My wolf pressed forward, whining and growling, desperate.

“I can’t leave,” I whispered, voice trembling.

“You can try,” he murmured. “But the bond will not let you. Never.”

My throat tightened. My knees felt weak. I had tried to resist, tried to walk away, tried to deny it. But instinct, the bond, and my wolf’s feral insistence were stronger than me.

Every glance, every movement, every breath between us was a punishment. Desire and fear collided in a way I had never experienced. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to resist. I wanted to run.

And yet I could not.

The forest waited. The pack watched. My wolf whimpered and growled, claws scraping beneath my skin. The bond pulsed violently, marking me subtly, invisibly, indelibly.

Some bonds do not ask.

Some marks do not fade.

Some desires are impossible to escape.

And I could already feel it—that the fight had been over the moment he looked at me.