Chapter 2: The Mark That Burns
704 Words
Lina didn’t sleep that night.
Zane stayed on her couch, eyes closed, breathing slow and even, but she knew he wasn’t really asleep. Every time she moved in her bedroom, his eyelids flickered. Like a predator pretending to rest.
By morning the snow had stopped. Sunlight sliced through the thin curtains and painted stripes across the wooden floor. She found him already awake, standing by the window, staring out at the trees like they might attack at any moment.
“You’re still here,” she said, surprised.
“Where else would I go?” His voice was rough from sleep—or maybe from whatever pain he was hiding.
She busied herself making coffee, trying not to stare at the way his torn shirt revealed the now-healed skin. No scar. Nothing. Like the wound had never existed.
“You gonna tell me what happened out there?” she asked, sliding a mug toward him.
He took it, fingers careful not to touch hers this time. “Pack business. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Pack?” She raised an eyebrow. “Like… wolves?”
He met her eyes. Steady. Unblinking. “Exactly like wolves.”
Lina laughed once—short, nervous. “Right. Because that makes perfect sense.”
But deep down, some part of her wasn’t laughing. Some part remembered those golden eyes, the way the wound closed, the heat of his skin.
She changed the subject. “You need clothes. Mine won’t fit, but there’s an old hoodie from my dad in the closet. It’s huge.”
He nodded once. When he came back wearing the faded gray hoodie, it stretched tight across his shoulders. He looked… almost normal. Almost.
“I should go,” he said.
“Wait.” She stepped closer without meaning to. “At least tell me why you were bleeding like that. And why no hospital.”
Zane hesitated. Then he lifted the sleeve of the hoodie just enough to show the inside of his left forearm.
There, burned into the skin like a brand, was a crescent moon crossed with claw marks. The edges looked raw, as if the mark fought to stay open.
“What is that?” she whispered.
“A curse,” he said simply. “One that’s been on my bloodline for three generations. Every full moon it gets worse. Last night… it almost won.”
Lina reached out before she could stop herself. Her fingertips hovered over the mark.
“Don’t—” he started.
Too late.
The second her skin brushed the cursed brand, heat exploded between them. Not pain. Something else. Something alive.
Zane sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes flashed brighter gold. He grabbed her wrist—gentle this time—and pulled her hand away, but he didn’t let go.
“You feel it too,” he said. Not a question.
Lina’s heart was hammering so hard she thought it might crack a rib. “Feel what?”
“The pull.” His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist, right over her pulse. “The bond.”
She yanked free and stepped back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But she did. Somewhere deep, she did.
Zane’s jaw tightened. “You’re my mate, Lina. My fated mate. That’s why I couldn’t leave last night. That’s why the curse didn’t kill me when it should have.”
She stared at him. Then she laughed—real this time, a little hysterical. “Mate? Like in romance novels? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not.” His voice dropped lower. “And if the others find out what you are to me… they’ll come for you. To break me. To break us.”
A chill ran down her spine.
Outside, a twig snapped. Loud. Deliberate.
Zane’s head whipped toward the window. His body went rigid.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
Before she could argue, he was out the door—silent, fast, gone.
Lina stood frozen in the middle of her living room, coffee forgotten, heart racing.
And for the first time in her life, the forest didn’t feel like freedom anymore.
It felt like a cage closing in.
- Writer
