Marked By The Beast

He started to speak.

“What are you—”

The rest of the question never left his mouth. My knees gave out, and I collapsed against his chest, my forehead pressing into the solid warmth of him. His arms caught me instinctively.

“Are you in heat?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

I shook my head lazily against him. “Heat… elixir,” I managed. The words felt thick on my tongue. “Mate with me.”

The request slipped out before I could stop it. Even I was startled by the raw need in my own voice, but I didn’t take it back. I couldn’t die. Not yet. Not like this.

He went still. “Do you know what you’re asking me to do?”

I lifted my head and looked at him. Worry and something like concern were written clearly across his face. He didn’t look like the rough, filthy males of the pack.

He looked… different. Almost like a gentleman. For a fleeting second, I wondered if I could trust him. If I let any of those other wolves near me, Naeja would brand me a slut before the sun rose, and the shame would follow me for the rest of my life. This stranger in the woods was the only chance I had.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Please.”

I pulled him closer and pressed my mouth to his.

He froze.For a heartbeat, he didn’t move or breathe. Then my arms slid around his neck, and his hands settled on my waist. He kissed me back. Deep, deliberate, tasting me as if he were still deciding whether this was real. A soft moan escaped my throat. I needed more. I needed him closer.

His fingers found the sleeves of my dress and tugged them down my shoulders. One of my legs lifted and wrapped around his waist. The hard length of him pressed against me through the remaining fabric. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

He dragged his mouth from mine to the side of my neck, kissing and then biting hard enough that pain flared sharp and bright. I clutched him tighter, a startled sound catching in my throat.

For a second, the old fear returned. Maybe he wasn’t a gentleman at all. Maybe he was going to devour me.

He pulled back only long enough to claim my mouth again, deeper this time. Then he lifted me fully, settling me against the forest floor with my legs still around him. His amber eyes locked onto mine.

“Please…” I breathed. “Be gentle.”

“I assure you,” he said, voice rough, “I will not be gentle.”

He pushed my dress up and entered me in one slow, unyielding thrust. Pain tore through me first. Sharp, overwhelming. I clung to him, my nails digging into his shoulders.

He began to move, and the pain gradually melted into something else, something darker and hotter that coiled low in my belly. Pleasure rose to meet it, fierce and relentless. I moaned as it took over, my body arching to meet every stroke.

I woke to sunlight filtering through the leaves, warm against my face.

I was still on the forest floor, the stranger’s arm draped heavily around my waist, my cheek resting against the steady rise and fall of his bare chest. For a long moment, I simply listened to his breathing, feeling the solid heat of him beneath me.

A quiet sigh of relief slipped out. I hadn’t died. That was all that mattered.

The next step was simple: leave. Walk away and ensure I never crossed paths with this man again.

I carefully eased out from under his arm. He didn’t stir. I stood, smoothed the wrinkled fabric of my dress as best I could, and adjusted the torn sleeves. Without looking back, I turned and walked out of the forest.

The moment I stepped through the door, I found them waiting. Naeja and her mother, Lady Margret, sat near the entrance, a thin crease of worry still etched between their brows. The second their eyes landed on me, relief flashed across both faces—brief, almost involuntary—before it hardened into anger.

Lady Margret surged to her feet and crossed the space in three quick strides. Her fingers clamped around my arm hard enough to bruise.

“Where did you go, you insolent girl?”

Naeja was right behind her, eyes wide with disbelief. “How are you still alive? That elixir should have killed you.” Her expression shifted slowly and wickedly as understanding settled in. She folded her arms.

“Which filthy wolf did you mate with?”

I pulled my arm free of Lady Margret’s grip.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said flatly, keeping my face carefully blank. “I mated with no one.”

Naeja’s frown deepened. “That’s a lie!”

I let a small, sharp grin curve my mouth. “Sorry for the disappointment.”

Lady Margret’s hand came up and shoved me back a step. “Go back to the maid quarters.” Her nose wrinkled as she leaned closer. “And what is that smell radiating from you?”I lifted my sleeve and sniffed but caught nothing unusual.

My brows knitted together for half a second before I forced the polite smile back into place.

“I’ll go change,” I said and walked past them without another word.

I sniffed myself again, just to be sure. Still nothing.

Probably one of their little games to get under my skin. I kept walking.

Naeja was my stepsister. Same father, different mothers. The only reason I scrubbed floors and washed other people’s clothes was that I was considered a bastard child. The child of a whore.

And my father? He was never around. He didn’t care what happened to me. He turned a blind eye every time they bullied me, every time they reminded me I was the wolfless bastard of the family.

“Gwen!”

Madame Bailey, the head maid, spotted me the moment I entered the servants’ wing. Her thin mouth pinched tight as she shoved a heavy bucket of dirty laundry into my arms.

“Where have you been? Trying to skip work again?”

I frowned. Her constant nagging grated on my already frayed nerves.Then her eyes narrowed. She stepped closer and pointed at my neck.

“What is that on your neck?”

“What mark?” I asked, my fingers rising to touch the skin. The area was tender.

Madame Bailey suddenly stumbled back, clutching her nose with a look of pure disgust.

“Ugh—and what is that *smell*?” She waved a hand in front of her face. “Go take a shower first. Now.”

I stared at her, genuinely confused. What smell? I couldn’t detect anything unusual about myself. Still, I nodded, set the laundry bucket down, and headed for my small room without another word.

The second the door shut behind me, I went straight to the cracked mirror.

There, on the side of my neck, was a clear, dark bite mark. Deep enough that it hadn’t begun to fade.