Chapter 6

LIAM

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Fuck. 

The agreement didn’t even survive twenty-four hours before he broke it.

Fredrinn and I had agreed until we understood the mark—and why we could somehow feel each other’s physical sensation—we’d agreed to keep our distance from everything, including sex.

Yet, I woke up to Jane’s loud moans and yells.

“Fuck. Fuck me harder, Daddy Fred.” 

Daddy Fred? I almost laughed, but nothing was amusing.

Then it came—the phantom echo of his pleasure. My cock twitched, heat pooling in my groin area.

I clenched my jaw, my molars aching, trying to bridle the sensation. Trying to stop thoughts from forming.

But they did anyway.

Fredrinn, between my thighs, his cock sliding in and out of me. The faces he’d make. The flavor of his lips. How my name would sound when he was inside of me.

The more thoughts formed, the harder my hips quivered, tension running through them, precum oozing out of my slits and smearing around my pajamas.

I felt like touching myself. Felt like running my fingers up and down my length.

Rather, I fisted the bedsheets, knuckles paling.

Jane’s moans grew louder, and for one traitorous second, I’d wished she’d stop yelling.

‘Why?’ Nyratha said, ‘want to hear his moans.’

“Go back to sleep, Nyratha.” 

Nyratha’s voice snapped me back to my senses, and I snatched a pillow and pressed it over my face.

Despite wanting to ignore what was going on in that room, my ears strained, filtering the sounds that came from his door.

The apartment went quiet for a moment, followed by the soft clatters of showers running.

Probably showering together. 

Fantastic.

I stared at the ceiling until I heard her bid him goodbye and leave the house.

Throwing off the blanket and changing my pants, I marched down the hallway.

The kitchen was an open concept, so the moment I entered the living area, Fredrinn came to view. He was standing by the fridge, in his pajamas, his biceps peeking out of his sleeves.

With an aggressive gait, I walked straight up and helped him shut the door.

Slammed it, the bottle inside shuddered.

A coy smile formed on his lips as he leaned against the refrigerator. 

“Good morning,” Fredrinn said, voice maddeningly calm. “I can see you slept well.”

A muscle in my jaw jumped. “Slept like a baby,” I said, “would’ve probably died in my sleep if your alarm of a girlfriend didn’t wake me up.”

“You’re welcome.” 

The annoying prick dared to smile back at me. 

I rubbed my temples. “I thought we had a deal. No sex until we figure this out.”

Still saying nothing, he unscrewed the bottle and took a long sip.

My eyes followed the movement—the small bob of his throat—before lingering on the hickey at the column of his neck.

I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, my fist clenching by my side.

‘Seems you’re losing sight of the mission,’ Nyratha’s voice echoed in my head.

I am not, I snapped internally, dragging my gaze away from his muscular neck to those eyes of his.

“A man has needs, little kiddo,” Fredrinn said, another smile building on his lips.

My jaw ticked. Little kiddo. It rang harder than it should. For a moment I wished he’d stop calling me that. I was a full-blown adult.

I stepped close, close enough that he finally stopped smiling.

“You keep doing you,” I muttered, “one day you’ll be somewhere important, I’ll jerk off until you piss in your pants.”

The silence that followed after that utter rubbish left my mouth rippled through the apartment.

Fredrinn cocked his head, his expression shifting.

‘Did you…’ Nyratha started, stunned. ‘Just tell him that?’

Blood rushed to my face.

‘Run away. Run and shut the door behind you and don’t come out for a week,’ Nyratha kept yapping in my head.

Trying to salvage whatever microscopic shred of dignity I had left, I glowered at him. 

“You’ve been warned.”

For the first time, Fredrinn actually looked…aware. His eyes flicked down, then up.

“We also agreed on something.” His voice dropped. “Distance? Remember?”

Fredrinn raised a finger between us. “Six feet.”

Only then did I realize how close I had gotten. Close enough to share the same breath.

The tip of my ears burnt red, and I bit down on my tongue.

“I was leaving anyway.”

“So leave.”

That teasing smile never returned to his face.

Shooting him the darkest glare I could manage, I took three exaggerated steps backward, pointed at him dramatically, and said, “You've Been Warned.”

I spun around and practically fled out of there.

The door slammed behind me before I groaned and collapsed on the bed, burying my face in the pillow.

‘If I’d known that what was going to come out of your mouth, I’d have tackled you,’ Nyratha said.

“Please stop talking.” 

I buried my face deeper into the pillow, then punched in. Halfway through the swing, I stopped.

Would Fredrinn feel this?

Neither of us fully understood the mark.  Sometimes pain crossed over, and sometimes it didn’t. There was no pattern to help,  just confusion.

Using my heightened hearing, I listened. His footsteps padded through the house.  The running water. 

A few minutes later, the front door clicked shut.

After Fredrinn left, the apartment felt strangely quiet. I’d had breakfast, although I barely remember the taste of the food.

Now, I was sprawled across the three-seater sofa, one leg hanging over my raised knee, phone in my hand.

I typed ‘A mark on the skin.’

How to get rid of stretch marks popped up.

‘Try adding werewolf,’ Nyratha said.

Editing the search, I added it.

Nothing tangible showed up.

I typed ‘black wrist mark werewolf.’ Nothing but fan fictions popped up.

The internet wasn’t helping, and I had no one else to ask. I couldn’t tell Scott. Benjamin was human, and had no idea my kind existed.

A broken hiss left me. 

Nyratha sighed ‘Whatever this is…it’s not normal. And who knows what else might befall us.”

Something about how her voice slithered through my head made a cold sweat break across my neck.

“You’re incredibly comforting,” I said. “No, really. Thank you for your unwavering optimism.”

I returned to scrolling,  sliding down and down until an article caught my eye.

A weird matching mark on two wolves. 

I tapped it. Unlike others, the page had no flashy advertisements, no dramatic design. Just a black background and glaring red letters.

My eyes drifted to the paragraph, and I read it in a whisper.

“On exceedingly rare occasions, a mark may manifest outside the natural order. Such marks are neither born of instinct nor acceptance, but obligation. These are called Debt marks”

My legs dropped.

“When two wolves remained bound by an unpaid debt.”

I scrolled down and nothing more.

My fingers glided to the mark on my wrist.

A debt? 

‘Owe a debt to who?’ Nyratha questioned.

This couldn’t be right. If something like this existed, why had no one ever mentioned it?

It looked ridiculous. Anonymous article. And just one post made by the author.

Probably another fan fiction. Yet, my focus remained on those two words—debt mark.

A sharp knock punched the cold silence in the apartment, snatching me out of my head.

For a moment, I didn’t respond. Probably delivery. But it came again, harder, rougher, like it was bent on taking down the door.

Dropping my phone, I approached the door, shooting it a glare.

The door swung open, and three men filled my line of vision.

None of them looked familiar, all dressed in a uniform that didn’t look like any cops I had seen.

One of them stared at me. “Liam Blackwell?”

“Can I help you?”

‘They’re wolves, Liam.’ Nyratha’s voice came out strained.

“You’re coming with us,” The man said, reaching for a pair of stainless cuffs from his belt.

“What the hell is going on?” I gritted.

“You’re a suspect in the murder of Roger Smith.”

My pulse plummeted. “What?”

Before I knew it, the man slammed me to the door frame, twisting my arms behind me, flinging the cuff around my wrist.

The lead officer held up a clear bag, and inside it was a familiar silver watch. 

My silver watch that slipped off when Roger had grabbed me.

The officer met my eyes. “This belongs to you…doesn’t it?”

Ice glazed down my spine, my heart thrashing against my ribs.