DEVIL'S MATE

✿♡♡✿ The forest whispered secrets she wasn’t ready to hear. Raven Blackthorn pulled her hood tighter against the wind as she darted through the trees. The moon was too full. The air too still. And the scent of blood… too close. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. One dare, one stupid midnight walk in the cursed woods, and she’d find herself back in her bed laughing with Elara the next day. But now? Now her lungs burned, and her boots slipped on roots as something snarled behind her. She didn’t see it. She just felt it—massive, primal, hungry. The stories had always warned them: Don’t go into the Bloodfang Forest. Raven hadn’t listened. She never listened. The first growl was thunder. The second was breath on her neck. She ran harder, faster, until she crashed into something solid. Someone. “s**t!” She scrambled back, but the figure caught her. Strong hands. Icy grip. Red eyes. A man. No… something more. “Well, well…” His voice was silk and steel. “What’s a delicious little mortal doing in my woods?” “Let go of me!” she snarled, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t budge. His face was beautiful—dangerously so. A marble sculpture carved by sin, complete with a cruel mouth and fangs just peeking out. “Interesting,” he murmured. “You smell... different.” Another growl echoed through the woods. Deeper. Wilder. The red-eyed stranger tensed. “She’s marked,” came a low voice from the shadows. “She’s mine.” That’s when Raven saw the second figure emerge—tall, broad, golden-eyed. His presence was heat and command, wrapped in muscle and menace. The air shifted around him. The vampire hissed. “You’d claim her already, Alpha? She’s not even turned.” “She doesn’t need to be turned. She’s mine.” Before she could process, the two monsters clashed, faster than sound. Claws. Teeth. Blood. Raven stumbled back, vision spinning, as the world faded. And in her final moment of clarity, the golden-eyed wolf turned to her, glowing with fury—and something else. Possession. Darkness took her. — Raven woke to the sound of howling. Not distant and eerie like the horror movies. This was close. Raw. Animalistic. Her body jolted upright from the bed, heart still sprinting from the dream—or memory—of the attack. Her fingers instinctively reached her shoulder. The mark was still there. A crescent burned into her skin like some twisted brand. She hissed and yanked down the torn neckline of her shirt. Crimson veins pulsed outward from the burn. It looked... alive. “What the hell did he do to me?” A knock at the door startled her. The cabin creaked as it opened and Lucien stepped in. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Of course he wasn’t. He moved like he owned oxygen. Those sinfully sculpted abs glistened with sweat, his tousled black hair damp from a run—or a kill. Eyes golden and unreadable. “I brought food,” he said, setting a tray down. Meat. Eggs. Coffee. Her stomach growled before her pride could stop it. “I’m not eating anything you give me.” He tilted his head. “You think I poisoned breakfast?” “I think you branded me like cattle.” Lucien’s jaw clenched. “It’s a mate mark. I didn’t choose it.” “Neither did I!” she spat, standing. Her breath hitched when his scent hit her—wild cedar and musk. Dangerous and addictive. “You were going to die,” he said, stepping closer. “The rogue was seconds from ripping your throat out.” “You could’ve saved me without the damn mark.” “Maybe. But I didn’t.” He stood close now. Too close. Her body betrayed her as heat surged between her thighs. She hated how her core clenched at his nearness. Hated how her n*****s peaked under the thin tank. His gaze dropped, devouring her body. “You feel it too,” he growled. She tried to step back, but he caught her wrist gently, then pulled her hand to his bare chest. “Do you feel that?” His heart beat like thunder. Out of control. For her. Raven licked her lips, involuntarily. Her breath came shallow. “Lucien...” And then his mouth was on hers—demanding, devouring, primal. She should’ve pushed him away. But the taste of him was fire and heaven. His hands cupped her thighs, lifting her with ease. She gasped as he carried her to the wall and pressed her back against it. His hips ground against her center, and her body responded with a needy arch. Clothes vanished in a blur of claws and growls. Her legs wrapped around his waist, their skin slick and hot as he teased her entrance with thick, deliberate strokes. “You’re mine,” he growled against her throat. “Then take me like you mean it,” she whispered, fire surging through her veins. He did.