CHAPTER 17: MARK???

IRYN'S POV

I'm about to get up from where I'm sitting and run when suddenly, I hear Nyall says;

"Calm down Iryn, we're not going to mark you,"

He pauses then adds, "... yet."

However it's not his last word that has me speechless, it's the fact that his lips weren't moving when he just spoke.

Did he just mind link me?

"Iryn," he calls again, trying to draw my attention to him, and again my eyes fall on his lips, noticing that they didn't move this time as well.

So he did mind link me?!!

My eyes widen as I realise this.

Omegas can't mind link or receive mind links, it's a curse of our own.

... So how can I hear him?

Suddenly I feel happy on hearing his voice, I like how I just felt.

Instinctively, I want to mind link him back, and so my lips part and my mouth falls open but no words come out------ I don't mean from past my lips.

... I don't know how to mind link.

... Now a rush of unhappiness fills me and I suddenly forget why I'm here in the first place.

My lips start to quiver, but before I can start to cry or something, Nyall's voice draws me out again.

"Hey," he calls softly, although I can almost swear he's about panicking.

"Iryn look at me."

I blink, forcing myself to stare at him, at his face, and then he says.

"We're not going to mark you now, this is only to stabilise our bonds."

I stare at him blankly, then he adds;

"Do you understand mate?"

I nod, my brows furrowing as I watch him purse his lips and then dip his fingers into his bowl------- the one which is etched with the ice blade sigil------- all while never letting his eyes go off me.

The ash clings to the skin on his fingers, and then he kneels until his eyes are completely level with mine, and I can't help but take a deep breath in to inhale his scent, allowing it to wash all over me.

“May I touch you?” he asks and I pause, wondering why he's asking for permission.

... Then I notice that I'm sitting very stiffly.

So I let out a breath, "Yes."

Instantly he swallows and releases a breath that I didn’t realise that he had been holding.

Then his fingers hover over my throat, moving gently before they rest in the hollow between my collarbones.

The ash leaves a cool trail as he draws a sigil that looks like a bird mid- wing, and I follow every stroke of his fingers with my eyes, watching the sweep up my sternum, the small curl over my pulse and the dot above my heart.

Then I notice his fingers tremble once.

“What does this drawing mean?” I whisper- ask and he glances at my mouth, then away from it.

“It means shelter,” he says.

"And warning.”

Then he pauses for a while and adds, "It means if you shout, I will always hear you.”

That... is the first time someone has told me something so... kind, and so I feel heat sting at my eyes at his words, but I blink it back before it can fall.

“Thank you.”

He gives me a look then withdraws, and I the air now colder at where his touch was just seconds ago.

Orien is already moving before I can blink, and digs two of his fingers deep into his bowl------ the one with the storm coil sigil------ until the ash entirely rims his knuckles.

Then he stops in front of me, but instead of kneeling like Nyall did, he leans down, his hair falling into his eyes and his mouth very near mine, and my breath hitches.

“May I?” he asks in a low voice.

I nod, “Yes.”

Why are they all asking if they can?

It feels weird----- ohhhhh, Elder Merrin said a line about consent.

... So that's what this is about?

Orien gives me a small smile, and then drags his ash- wet fingers over my left cheekbone, then my right, sketching the sigils that end at the corner of my mouth.

The scent coming from his bowl is brighter, smelling of citrus peel that's burned in honey, and his touch is much slower than Nyall’s.

“What do these mean?” I ask, because I feel like have to speak and say anything at all or I will do something reckless, like lean forward and place my lips his.

“It means witness....” He dots the center of my lower lip with a careful thumb.

"... And oathbreaker.”

I blink, feeling confused. “Oathbreaker?”

“I'm not saying that you are,” he murmurs.

“I'm saying that I am. I take too many oaths to control myself around you.”

That takes me by surprise, and my breath goes somewhere that I can’t reach, but i don't notice because I'm too busy staring at him in shock.

When he pulls back, there's barely any time for me to recover before Fenric is right in front of me.

His bowl breathes spice and smoke, and it's nothing like his wild pine scent.

Honestly none of their bowls smells like them------ I wonder whether it was done on purpose.

Fenric doesn’t dip his fingers into the bowl, instead he palms the ash and crouches, and in response, I plant my hands on my knees to keep them from shaking.

“May I touch you?” he asks, and I suddenly notice that his voice sounds gravel and not at all cocky or whatnot.

"Tell me no if you don't want to, and I'll stop this ceremony at once. You don't have to go through with it."

Can this ceremony really be stopped?

I don't know but... honestly, I don't want to complete the mating bond yet, so...

I shake my head, "I'm okay, you may touch me."

Saying the words sound weird, and I have to pinch at my knees to remind myself that I'm talking about something else.

He doesn't say anything for a moment and just looks at me, waiting to see if I still have second or third thoughts about it.

But I only stare at him blankly.

Seeing that I haven't changed my mind, he curves his right hand around my ankle first, and leaves a ring band of gray ash just at the jut of my bone.

Then he moves his hand up my shin, slowly asking me with his eyes at my knee.

Understanding what he's asking, I nod, feeling my throat now suddenly dry.

He marks the inside of it with a crooked possessive and very unpretty sigil, all the while not taking his gaze on me.

His behaviour right now is so strange and different from how he usually acts with me, and so I find myself getting nervous.

... And it doesn't help that he keeps looking at me.

“What does that one mean?” I ask him, hearing my voice come out hoarse as I try to that as an excuse to look away from him and at my knee instead.

“Mine,” he says first and I shudder at the words, then he corrects himself.

... with visible effort.

“Ours.”

Heat blooms over my skin then, and I can't tell of it's because I'm embarrassed by my reaction or because I'm reacting his words again.

Then Fenric repeats the first ring around my right ankle, and then draws a short line behind it, something that looks like a hunter’s tally.

When his palm travels up the outer seam of my robe to my hip, my wolf arches against my bones and I jolt.

“Fenric,” I rasp in warning, and he stops at the belt knot, listening for once.

His knuckles nudge the ironroot, smearing the gray ash over the green cloth material.

“Here?” he asks.

“Here,” I say, and he presses his ash- wet palm firmly over the knot and holds it there, leaving it right where it is until I begin to feel the heat from palm, then he pulls away.

“The marks are complete,” Elder Casmir announces loudly, and I flinch.

Doesn't he remember that we're werewolves? The shouting is not necessary.

Elder Casmir then stirs the brazier and Elder Merrin lifts a small lidded vial carved from bone up into the air.

The whole thing looks so ritualistic that I still where I'm sitting, keeping my eyes fixed on them.

Suddenly, I feel cold and tear my eyes away from the two elders to look at Fenric.

... But he isn't in front of me anymore.

I look around and then see him with Nyall and Orien.

All three of my mates are right there by the wall a few meters from me, and I look at them helplessly.

Why won't they come nearer?

I feel so empty.

“The seal,” Elder Merrin says so loudly that I have to flinch and turn to look at her.

"... has been created, your bond shall be stabilised."

Then she turns to me, and it takes everything in me not to run as she walks towards me.

My breath hitches as she leans her crooked, old face to mine and I find myself wondering for the first time how old she really is.

How many centuries gone is she that the age is starting to show on her face?

I shudder, feeling chills run down my spine as she keeps leaning in even closer to me.

"Take the vial."

I furrow my brows, not sure what she means by that, but then I look down to see her right hand stretched out as she holds a tiny bottle to me.

Carefully, I take it from her, not sure what I should do with it.

"Drink it." She urges.

Worried and confused, I turn my head to look at my mates and they nod at me.

That means it's safe.

... So I break the lid of the vial----- which is surprisingly made of wax------ with my thumb, and then bring the vial up to my nose.

... And the scent that comes out from it is...

... Odourless.

How's that--------?

Deciding not to hold the bottle for too long in my hand, I bring it to my lips, but then...

"Not to your lips Omega." Elder Casmir interrupts before I make a mistake.

“Where?” I manage, turning to look at him which a confused look on my face.

“Where do I------"

Elder Casmir gestures to his own chest. “Over the heart, Omega, if the heart agrees.”

Nodding, I tip the vial and let a single drop of it to fall to the center of my sternum.

... And everything around me goes white.