The mark Beneath the Skin
1057 Words
Lila didn’t go back to class.
She wandered the edge of campus like a ghost, ignoring the late bell, ignoring the fact that every step she took felt heavier somehow, like the ground itself was pulling at her. Like this place knew what she didn’t.
She didn’t want to believe him.
You’re mine.
It echoed in her skull like a curse. Like a promise.
And yet, something inside her—deep, primal—believed him.
Worse, it wanted him back.
---
She found the library by accident.
It was buried in an old brick building separate from the main campus. Dimly lit. Dusty. Full of ancient books that hadn’t seen daylight in decades.
The librarian, a hunched woman with silver glasses and a pinched face, barely looked up when Lila walked in. That suited her fine.
She needed answers.
She didn’t even know what questions to ask—fated? mine? golden eyes?—but something had changed in her since that moment in the hallway. Her blood buzzed beneath her skin, her heartbeat felt… syncopated, like it beat to someone else’s rhythm.
She pulled books at random. Old folklore. Supernatural legends. Local myths.
Nothing useful.
But then she found it—a slim volume hidden behind a thick encyclopedia. “The Bonds of the Lost”—a book that felt warm when her fingers brushed the cover.
She flipped it open, half-expecting nonsense.
But the words hit her like a punch to the ribs.
"In certain bloodlines touched by ancient magic, fated pairs are bound not by choice but by cosmic decree. One recognizes the other by scent, by soul, by a bond that cannot be broken. These pairings are rare, volatile… and often fatal when denied."
Her pulse jumped.
Another passage:
“Those born with the blood of beasts—shifters, hybrids, cursed ones—are particularly susceptible. Once a bond is recognized, it awakens instincts. Jealousy. Obsession. Protection. Rage. The bonded become each other’s greatest weakness… and strength.”
She closed the book, hands trembling.
It wasn’t just some twisted stepbrother fantasy.
It was real.
---
Lila didn’t make it two steps out of the library before a voice stopped her cold.
“You’re digging into things you don’t understand.”
She turned. The black-lipsticked girl from Asher’s table stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall like she’d been waiting.
Dark hair. Dark eyes. A black hoodie with silver runes stitched along the sleeves.
“And you are?” Lila asked.
“Elara,” the girl said. “Asher’s cousin. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
Elara smirked. “In this town, everyone’s sort of related. But don’t worry, we’re not bonded.”
Lila swallowed. “You know about that?”
Elara nodded toward the book in Lila’s arms. “You’re not the first human girl to stumble into our world and think she’s special. Most of them don’t last long.”
“Human girl?”
Elara arched a brow. “You didn’t know?”
Lila’s blood went cold. “Didn’t know what?”
Elara leaned in, voice low. “You’re not like us. Asher… he’s dangerous. Controlled, for now, but barely. The bond? It’s like fire in his veins. And you’re the match.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” Lila said sharply.
“No one ever does.”
She turned to leave, but Elara’s next words stopped her.
“He marked you already, didn’t he?”
Lila blinked. “What?”
“His scent’s all over you. That’s how the others will know. That you’re his.”
Lila backed away. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” Elara said. “But I’m also right. You should leave before it’s too late.”
Too late for what?
---
By the time she got back to the house, dusk had fallen.
The Thorn estate looked different at night—alive, almost. The windows glowed faintly, and the gardens whispered in the wind. Shadows moved where they shouldn’t.
Her mother was nowhere to be found.
Probably off with Mr. Thorn again—whoever he really was.
Lila climbed the staircase slowly, avoiding the creaky step that groaned like a wounded animal. She hadn’t even reached her bedroom before she felt him.
“Asher,” she said aloud.
He stepped out of the shadows at the end of the hall like he’d been waiting.
His eyes locked on hers. Hungry. Haunted.
“You went to the library.”
“You're stalking me now?”
He ignored that. “Did you find the book?”
“I found enough.”
A pause.
“Then you know.”
“I know something,” she said, holding her ground. “But I don’t understand it.”
“You’re not supposed to. Not yet.”
“Then explain.”
Asher moved closer, each step deliberate.
“The bond is real. You can feel it, can’t you?”
She hated that he was right. That her skin felt electrified just by him being near. That her breath came faster, her heart racing.
“You said you didn’t want this,” she whispered. “So why… why did you mark me?”
He flinched.
“I didn’t mean to. It just… happened.”
Lila backed into her door. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” he said, voice raw. “Your scent calms the monster in me. Your voice pulls me back from the edge. I dream of you even when I’m awake.”
She trembled. “That sounds like obsession.”
“It is.”
Then silence. Heavy. Charged.
He lifted his hand, hesitated, then touched her cheek.
And she didn’t pull away.
Because something in her welcomed the touch. Craved it.
“Don’t fight it,” he murmured.
“I have to,” she said, voice breaking. “You’re my stepbrother.”
He leaned in, forehead brushing hers. “Then why does this feel like fate?”
---
That night, Lila dreamed of wolves.
Of gold eyes watching her from the woods. Of silver chains breaking. Of her standing in the center of a stone circle, wearing a crown made of thorns, while something howled her name.
She woke up sweating.
And her window was open—though she hadn’t touched it.
The wind carried his scent.
Rain. Wildfire. And him.
---
- Writer
