Marked By Fire
657 Words
Calla couldn’t sleep. Not after that kiss. Not after the fever, the shift, the shiver still lingering under her skin like electricity waiting to strike again.
She lay on her back staring at the ceiling, where shadows from the barred window danced like ghosts. Her lips still tingled. Her chest still ached—not from pain, but from the echo of being seen. Touched. Desired.
Riven had left after the second kiss. No words. No promises. Just a look—stormy, broken, and raw—and then he vanished into the night like a shadow fleeing the sun.
Now all she had was silence. And the scent of him on her pillow.
She should’ve felt disgusted. Afraid. Angry.
Instead, she felt... alive.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
---
In the morning, she didn’t wait for permission.
She got dressed, yanked open the door, and stormed down the hall. The manor was quiet. Too quiet. Even the guards were absent, their usual presence replaced by a strange unease.
Something was wrong.
She turned a corner and nearly slammed into Rhea.
The beta’s expression was unreadable. Her eyes darted over Calla’s form, pausing at her neck.
“It’s glowing again,” she said.
Calla looked down. The mark shimmered faintly beneath her collar.
“I need to see Riven.”
Rhea snorted. “He’s not exactly in the mood for guests.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. He’s... not himself right now.”
“What does that mean?”
Rhea’s smirk dropped. “It means the Alpha is losing control.”
Calla pushed past her. “Then it’s time someone reminded him what control looks like.”
---
She found him in the west wing—shirtless, again, blood on his knuckles, pacing like a caged animal.
He stopped when he saw her.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why? Afraid I’ll kiss you again?”
His eyes darkened. “That wasn’t a kiss. That was a mistake.”
“Then why are you still thinking about it?”
He crossed the room in two strides, crowding her against the wall. His breath was fire.
“Because I haven’t stopped since,” he growled.
Her heart slammed. But she didn’t flinch.
“Good,” she whispered. “Then stop lying to yourself.”
He snarled and turned away, fists clenched.
“Every second you’re near me, the wolf inside wants to claim you. Not gently. Not sweetly. Permanently.”
She stepped forward. “Then maybe I should let it.”
He whirled around. “Do you have any idea what that means?”
She nodded. “A mate. A bond. A mark that never fades.”
He stared, stunned.
“I read your damn books, Riven,” she said. “I know what happens when an Alpha marks a female.”
His voice was gravel. “You’re not just a female. You’re Moonblood. No one has ever mated with your kind.”
“Then maybe it’s time someone did.”
Silence.
Then he moved.
Fast. Rough. His mouth crushed hers, hands in her hair, his body pinning her to the wall. She moaned into him, nails raking his back. His teeth grazed her lower lip. He pulled back just enough to whisper:
“If I start, I won’t stop.”
“Then don’t.”
---
They didn’t make it to the bed.
They barely made it to the floor.
Clothes tore. Skin burned. She felt his teeth on her neck, his hands branding her hips, his body claiming her in a way no one ever had. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was raw and scorching and perfect.
When it was over, he didn’t speak. Just pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair.
“You’re mine now,” he said softly. “In every way.”
She should’ve been scared.
But all she felt was fire.
- Writer
