Claiming the mind-bound human bride

Chapter4

Valeska Auden's

I lay on the floorboards, biting my lip so hard I could taste blood, waiting for the burning to stop, but it only grew worse.

It moved with my racing heartbeat, burning beneath my skin, and I couldn't understand why something inside me hurt this much.

It felt like something hot was burning through my skin, hurting deep inside as the pain slowly moved toward my shoulder blade.

I grabbed the edge of the wooden table, my knuckles turning white as I tried to keep myself steady, but a choked scream escaped my throat anyway.

My vision blurred, and for a moment I could only see red and bright silver light.

“Valeska!”

Dad dropped the heavy iron kettle, sending water across the floorboards as he hurried toward me.

“Valeska, look at me! What’s happening?”

I couldn't answer.

The heat rushed down my spine in sharp waves, each one coming with my heartbeat, and I felt as if something was moving beneath my skin.

I tried to breathe through the pain, but every breath came out shaky.

I forced myself up and stumbled toward the washbasin mirror in the corner. My legs felt weak, and I had to catch myself against the basin to keep from falling.

My hands shook as I unbuttoned my collar and pulled the wet fabric down over my shoulder.

In the dim mirror, my skin looked raw and dark red. Beneath it, thin lines of silver light were spreading across my skin, joining together until they formed a sharp crest.

A crescent moon wrapped in oak leaves with two crossed blades.

I stared at it, but I couldn't understand what I was seeing.

“Valeska?”

Boots pounded up the stairs, and the bedroom door flew open.

Dad stood in the doorway with an iron lantern trembling in his hand. His face was pale and streaked with dark soot from the forge.

“I heard you screaming. Valeska, what happened?”

He took one step into the room and stopped when he saw my shoulder in the mirror.

The lantern slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a heavy thud, spilling oil across the boards.

He didn't even look down.

He rushed toward me and grabbed my arms, his rough, calloused hands pressing into my skin.

“No,” he whispered, his voice trembling with fear. “No, no, no. Not you. Not my girl.”

“Dad,” I sobbed, leaning against the table as another wave of heat moved through my back. “What is this? What’s happening to me?”

Dad looked at the mark again, and for several seconds he seemed unable to take his eyes off it.

“The Treaty Mark,” he said quietly.

“The what?”

“The Treaty Mark.”

His fingers tightened around my arms as he stared at the glowing lines.

“It’s the royal crest of the Shadow Ridge Pack.”

“The pack?”

I shook my head, panic rising in my chest.

“That makes no sense. I’m human. I’ve never even met them.”

Dad stayed quiet for a moment.

I watched his face, waiting for him to speak, but the fear in his eyes made my chest feel tight.

“Elias Vance,” he finally whispered.

My fingers tightened around his sleeve.

“The Alpha King?” I asked, and Dad nodded.

I had heard that name all my life. Elias Vance was the shifter ruler adults used to frighten crying children in Oakhaven. He was the king who had crushed our militia fifteen years ago and claimed the entire mountain ridge.

“What does he have to do with me?” I asked.

Dad swallowed hard before answering.

“The old peace treaties,” he said. “They weren't written in ink, Valeska. They were made with blood magic.”

I watched his face, waiting for him to explain.

“When the border is threatened with total war, the magic claims a human bloodline and uses it to force a peace covenant. Julian drawing his sword and declaring a midnight march must have triggered the covenant.”

My hands grew cold as I looked down at the silver mark.

“So it chose me?” I asked, but Dad didn't answer.

Dad didn't answer.

I only had to look at his face.

“Get it off me,” I pleaded, grabbing the lye soap from the stand and holding it toward him. “Scrub it off, Dad. Please. Use the lye.”

Dad took the stiff bristle brush, smeared it with raw lye paste, and pressed it against my skin.

I bit down hard as he started scrubbing.

The brush scraped over the mark again and again until my shoulder burned almost as badly as it had when the mark first appeared.

“Harder,” I said through clenched teeth. “Keep going. Maybe it’s only on the surface.”

Dad didn't respond.

He kept scrubbing until my skin was raw and bleeding, but the silver light burned through the blood and stayed exactly where it was, leaving the strange crest marked into my skin.

Finally, Dad dropped the brush and shook his head.

“It won't come off,” he said.

I looked at the mark, then at my father's terrified face, and suddenly I remembered my mother.

Her secret herb books. The silver chain she always kept hidden beneath her shift. The way she used to speak about Lady Feodora so carefully, even though she never told me the reason.

I turned toward Dad.

“Dad,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. “Did Mom know about this?”

His hands fell to his sides.

“Is that why she was killed at the border?”

Dad's mouth fell open, and his face became even paler.

He lowered his eyes and said nothing.

“Dad?”

I waited, but before he could answer, a heavy crash came from downstairs.

We both turned toward the door as another crash followed, louder this time, and then we heard boots rushing across the lower floor.

Dad grabbed my arm.

“The door,” he whispered.

The heavy iron bolt Julian’s men had locked outside broke loose from the frame, and the front door slammed against the hallway wall.

“Search the house!” a deep voice shouted from below. “The covenant flared on this side of the line! Find the girl before the militia gets here!”

I sucked in a breath when I realized they were here for me.

Dad stared at the door, his hands shaking.

“They must have seen the mark.”

“What do I do?”

Dad held my shoulders and looked directly at me.

“Listen to me. You have to leave.”

“But where?”

“The cellar window.”

I shook my head, tears still running down my face.

“Dad, I'm not leaving you.”

“You don't have a choice.”

More footsteps sounded below us, getting closer.

Dad pushed

me toward the back stairs.

“Valeska, go!”

I looked at him one last time before turning toward the cellar window, not knowing what was outside but knowing I couldn't stay.