Chapter Six – The Mark

Cassian didn’t look at her when the door closed behind the Councilman.

He was already turning away.

“Ava—” Dorian began carefully.

“Leave us,” Cassian said.

Dorian hesitated.

Then obeyed.

Silence fell.

Cassian moved toward the opposite side of the room.

Distance.

Again.

Ava felt it instantly.

The bond tightened.

Not violently.

But insistently.

“Stop doing that,” she snapped.

He didn’t turn.

“Doing what?”

“Walking away like I’m not standing here.”

His shoulders stiffened.

“I am preventing further instability.”

She stared at his back.

“Instability?” Her voice rose. “I woke up in a house full of wolves. A man just inspected me like livestock. And you won’t even look at me.”

He inhaled slowly.

Controlled.

“You are safer here than anywhere else.”

“I don’t even know what ‘here’ is!”

He turned then.

Finally.

His eyes were colder than before.

“This is my territory.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

The bond pulsed.

Sharp.

He took a step toward the door.

Her chest tightened.

He made it two steps before his breath hitched.

Subtle.

But she saw it.

He paused.

Jaw tightening.

“Don’t,” she warned.

He took another step.

Pain sliced through her ribs.

She gasped.

At the same time—

His hand shot to the wall.

Not dramatic.

Not collapsing.

But bracing.

The air shifted.

“You’re proving my point,” she said through clenched teeth.

He turned slowly.

“If I distance myself, the bond destabilizes.”

“Then stop distancing yourself.”

His eyes darkened.

“It is not that simple.”

“Then explain it.”

Silence.

He didn’t like that.

Explaining meant vulnerability.

Explaining meant admitting loss of control.

“I do not mark you,” he said finally.

She blinked.

“What?”

“The mark,” he repeated. “Is a claiming. A binding. A sealing of the bond.”

Her stomach dropped.

“You mean bite.”

“Yes.”

The word wasn’t soft.

“And if you do?”

“The bond stabilizes.”

The room seemed to shrink.

“And if you don’t?”

His jaw flexed.

“It continues to strain.”

“And you weaken.”

He didn’t deny it.

“How much?”

“Enough.”

“Enough to what?” she pushed.

He hesitated.

That was answer enough.

“Enough to lose authority?” she pressed.

His silence sharpened.

“Enough for the Council to challenge me.”

The truth landed heavy.

“And what happens if they challenge you?”

“They remove what threatens the pack.”

Her pulse faltered.

“Meaning me.”

He didn’t soften it.

“Yes.”

The bond flared again.

Hotter.

Not from fear.

From tension.

“So your solution,” she said slowly, “is to bite me.”

“It is the most direct path to stability.”

“Stability for who?”

“For both of us.”

“Or for your power?”

His eyes flashed.

“Do not mistake survival for selfishness.”

“Don’t mistake my body for strategy.”

The words hit harder than she intended.

Something flickered in his expression.

Not anger.

Something more complicated.

“You think I want this?” he asked quietly.

“I think you want control.”

“Yes.”

No denial.

“Because without it,” he continued, stepping closer, “my pack fractures. My enemies move. And you die.”

The bluntness stole her breath.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

The bond tightened again.

She felt it.

Not as pain.

As pull.

As if something beneath her skin leaned toward him.

“And if I refuse?” she whispered.

His voice lowered.

“Then the Council decides.”

“And what would they decide?”

“That a human with unstable blood and a destabilizing bond is a liability.”

The word cut deep.

“So I’m a problem.”

“You are a variable.”

“That’s worse.”

He stepped closer again.

Too close.

The air between them thinned.

“I can mark you tonight,” he said.

The words were controlled.

But beneath them—

Strain.

“And that fixes it?” she asked.

“It stabilizes the curse.”

“And ties me to you permanently.”

“Yes.”

The honesty stunned her.

“No loophole?”

“No.”

The bond hummed louder.

Almost expectant.

“You don’t even know me,” she said.

His gaze dropped to her throat.

“I know enough.”

“That’s not the same.”

Silence pressed in again.

Heavy.

Charged.

“And what if I don’t want to be yours?” she asked.

His eyes lifted slowly.

“Then you fight the bond.”

“And?”

“And it consumes us both.”

The words weren’t dramatic.

They were factual.

She searched his face.

For manipulation.

For deceit.

She found neither.

Only tension.

And something dangerously close to fear.

“Why are you really hesitating?” she asked.

His jaw tightened.

Because if he marked her—

He would not just stabilize power.

He would choose.

And choice meant vulnerability.

“It binds more than strength,” he said finally.

“It binds will.”

The meaning settled between them.

“If you mark me,” she whispered, “you won’t be able to walk away.”

His silence confirmed it.

The bond flared again.

This time not painful.

Not strained.

Hungry.

And for the first time—

She realized something else.

It wasn’t only reacting to him.

It was waiting for her answer.