Marked
1128 Words
Lorena’s POV.
I bite down hard on my lip, my eyes locked on the monster standing before me. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth as he stares hungrily at my lips, licking his own with a twisted grin. In one swift motion, he forces his lips onto mine, ignoring my attempts to pull away. I turn my head, but his hand clamps down on my chin, forcing my mouth open. His tongue, hot and vile, slithers into my mouth like a serpent.
I gag at the taste—he’s foul, like burnt charcoal. His hand snakes under my shirt, pinching hard enough to send sharp pain shooting through me. I can’t take this anymore. Summoning whatever strength I have left, I bite down hard on his tongue, tasting his blood as it fills my mouth.
He jerks back, clutching his mouth, his eyes burning with rage. I spit his blood onto the floor, but terror coils in my chest. I shouldn’t have done that.
His eyes narrow, pupils transforming into thin slits surrounded by flickers of fire. His beast. The only thing more terrifying than him is the monster lurking inside. Dark smoke starts to seep from his body, his aura growing heavier, suffocating. His claws lengthen, teeth sharpening into deadly spikes.
Before I can react, his hand wraps around my throat, lifting me effortlessly against the door. I gasp for air, my fingers clawing at his wrist, trying desperately to loosen his grip. His nails dig into my skin, and I feel the warmth of my blood trickling down, staining my shirt.
“Why do you defy me, gem?” His voice, a low, guttural growl, chills me to the bone. His fiery gaze traces the blood running down my neck, and slowly, almost methodically, his tongue slides up the trail of it. He moves excruciatingly slowly as he reaches my chest, lingering as though savoring the moment.
His grip loosens slightly, but I’m still suspended, hanging helpless by my throat. My heart thunders in my chest, each beat a reminder of how truly powerless I am.
Lowering me to the ground, he finally releases my throat, only to replace his hand with his vile tongue, lapping at the wounds on my neck like a predator savoring its prey. He pauses, his breath hot against my ear.
“You are mine, Lorena,” he rasps, his voice thick with possession. “Accept it already.” And with those words, he bites down viciously on the mate mark at my neck. The searing pain that follows is unbearable. My vision goes black, and the last thing I hear is his twisted moan of satisfaction before I slip into unconsciousness.
I wake with a start, my body aching in every possible way. But at least I’m alone. I exhale in relief, realizing I’m still clothed. The stinging in my back and neck is unbearable, so I force myself to sit up, pulling my legs to my chest as I rock gently, letting the tears spill freely.
I hate him. I hate my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve a mate like this.
He wasn’t always this way. In the beginning, he had some restraint, some patience. He wanted me to accept him. But I wasn’t ready. My memories were—and still are—a blur. I didn’t want to rush into anything. And that’s when everything changed.
I don’t remember anything before he ‘saved’ me. He says I was a slave to the wolves in the lands below. He claims they stabbed me through the heart, and the only way to save me was by marking me. I have no way of knowing if any of that is true. I’ve heard stories—horrible stories—about the things they did to me. But sometimes I wonder if what I endured there was worse than the hell I’m living now.
A knock on the door jolts me from my thoughts. I don’t answer, but the door creaks open anyway. I already know it’s Marley.
She hurries inside, closing the door softly behind her, pushing her trolley filled with supplies. A meal, tea, a first aid kit, towels, and a large bucket of steaming water. “Let me see your wounds, my lady,” she whispers, dipping a cloth into the water.
I don’t move. I’m still too shaken, my body too sore. But Marley knows the routine by now. This has become our nightly ritual.
Her touch is gentle as she cleans my wounds, and I wince, though I try to stay silent. She pulls out a small jar of lotion from her kit, applying it carefully along the claw marks on my neck. The cool sensation offers some relief as I feel the wounds begin to close. But she avoids the mate mark, knowing better than to risk his wrath. She cleans it, though, and for that, I’m grateful.
She moves to my back next, inspecting the wound from the door. “This one’s going to scar, my lady,” she says quietly. “It’s too deep… You need to stop provoking him.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “I hate him,” I whisper.
Marley cradles my face in her hands, but releases me when I wince at the pain from his bite on my cheek. She gasps softly, dabbing at the mark. “I can’t believe he attacked your face this time,” she murmurs, horrified. “It’s not a cut, so I can’t use the lotion… but I’ll apply some balm to help with the swelling.”
After tending to my wounds, she starts cleaning my body, adding soap to the water. I hate this part. I hate that I can’t bathe myself. But I’m only allowed to wear what he selects, and these gaudy, revealing clothes need to be stripped off.
I flinch as she unclips my shirt, removing it, then my skirt. Every inch of me feels exposed. Degraded. But at least it’s Marley, not him.
Suddenly, an idea sparks in my mind. I hesitate, unsure if I should even voice it, but the desperation in my chest pushes me forward.
“Marley… do you think I could bathe in the waters below tomorrow?” My voice is barely a whisper.
She pauses, looking at me as though she’s about to refuse, but then her expression softens. Her voice drops to a hushed tone. “Alright, my lady. But only while he’s with his mistress. You’ll have to rise early, bond with the ether before he notices.”
I nod eagerly, feeling a flicker of hope for the first time in ages. Something to hold onto. Even if only for a brief moment of peace.
- Writer
