The Night He Claimed Me

Faye’s POV

Ryan’s voice carried over the music, loud and mocking. “Hey everyone, check this out! Leo is trying to play hero with the pack’s walking wardrobe malfunction.”

People around us laughed hard. Some repeated what he said, adding their own jokes about Leo’s glasses and my weight. The crowd grew, with their phones already out from when Thorn ripped the necklace off my neck.

Then it happened. A wave of beeps and notifications swept through the backyard on phone after another.

And then, I knew what it meant immediately. My stomach twisted as heads bent down, screens glowed, and the first snicker started.

“Oh my god,” a girl near me said. “Is that Faye in the dressing room?”

Another guy burst out laughing. “Look at her trying to zip that dress. Bro, send me this.”

Person after person checked their phone, looked at me, and joined in. Whispers turned into open mocking. “She really thought she could fit normal clothes?” “Poor dress didn’t stand a chance.”

Even Leo pulled his phone out when it beeped. He watched for a few seconds, with his face falling. Then he pushed through the crowd and walked toward me.

“Faye,” he said gently, reaching for my hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Before I could move, Thorn appeared. He grabbed Leo’s arm and yanked it away from me.

“Get your hands off her,” Thorn growled.

He shoved Leo backward with full force. Leo tripped, with his glasses flying off, and landed hard on the grass.

Tala screamed and ran over, dropping next to her twin. “Leo! Oh my god!” She glared up at me. “I told him to stay away from you! Look what you did! Your fat self always drags people into drama.”

The words hit like punches. As everyone stared and laughed more.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I looked at Leo on the ground. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I’m so sorry, Leo.”

Then I ran. Pushed past bodies, ignored the murmurs and fresh laughs following me. Rieka called my name—“Faye! Wait!”—but I didn’t stop. I bolted up the stairs and into my room, slamming the door.

I locked it and slid down to the floor, sobbing.

I hated myself. Hated my body. Hated how it ruined everything. My curves, my hips, my stomach—everything wrong.

My eyes landed on my hair in the mirror across the room. Long strawberry blonde waves, the only part of me people ever called pretty.

I crawled to my desk, grabbed scissors from the drawer. My hands shook as I gathered a thick section of hair.

One cut and it would be gone. The only good thing about me.

I pressed the blades against the strands. Closed them a little and felt the tug.

But I stopped. Dropped the scissors and buried my face in my hands, crying harder.

I stood up and stared at my reflection. Pulled at my shirt, my thighs, and my arms. Everything was too big. Everything was wrong. Tears blurred the glass.

Rieka knocked later. “Faye? Please open the door. I’m so sorry about Tala. Let me in.”

I didn’t answer. I just cried quietly.

She knocked a few more times and then gave up. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

The party kept going. Music thumped. Laughter floated up. They danced, drank, and had fun without me. Like I didn’t matter.

Eventually, the noise died. Cars left. The lights turned off. And the house went silent.

Hours passed. And the rage built inside me until I couldn’t sit still. Even Ulfa paced in my mind, growling low.

*He went too far. Confront him. Now.*

I grabbed the scissors again, hid them behind my back, and marched to Thorn’s room. The door was cracked open when I got there.

I pushed it wide and shoved past him as he stood up. “We need to talk,” I snapped.

He didn’t stop me. I turned my back to him, hiding the scissors, with words flying out. “How could you let Ryan post that video? You humiliated me in front of everyone! You always do this—make me feel small, worthless. Why do you hate me so much, Thorn?”

I waited, but he said nothing. And as my anger flared hotter, I spun around. “Say something!”

That’s when I noticed it. His jeans strained tight at the front. He was hard. Painfully hard.

My eyes widened as heat flooded my cheeks—and lower.

A strong scent hit me suddenly. Musky, masculine, and pure arousal pouring off him. My body reacted instantly. With wetness pooled between my legs.

Ulfa went crazy inside my head.

*Mate! Our mate! It’s him! Thorn is our mate!*

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You’re not my mate. You can’t be.”

Thorn’s eyes darkened. He stepped closer, ignoring my words completely.

“Stay back,” I said, voice weak. “I hate you. You’re horrible. You ruin everything.”

He kept coming. Close enough to touch me. His hand lifted, thumb brushing the tears off my cheek gently.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice rough.

Then he kissed me.

I pushed at his chest once, weakly, but he didn’t budge. His tongue slid into my mouth, tasting me, claiming me. The scissors fell from my hand with a clatter.

His hands were everywhere—gripping my waist, sliding up under my shirt to cup my breasts. He groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck, Faye,” he breathed against my lips. “I need you. Now.”

He yanked my shirt over my head and tossed it aside. His mouth dropped to my neck, sucking hard, teeth grazing skin. My bra came off next, and he palmed my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they hardened.

I gasped when he sucked one into his mouth, with his tongue flicking fast. Pleasure shot straight between my legs.

He backed me against the wall, grinding his hardness against my stomach. “Feel what you do to me,” he growled. “Always you.”

Clothes disappeared fast. My shorts, his jeans, and underwear.

He lifted me easily, with his hands under my thighs, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. The tip of his cock pressed against my entrance, hot and slick.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I met his green eyes as he thrust in deep, one long stroke filling me completely. I cried out at the stretch, the burn turning into pleasure instantly.

He didn’t pause. He pulled back and slammed in again, harder. The wall shook with each thrust.

“Yes,” I moaned. “Thorn—oh god—”

He fucked me against the wall, relentless, with our hips snapping. One hand held me up, and the other rubbed tight circles on my clit.

“Come for me,” he demanded.

And I did. Hard. My body clenched around him, waves of pleasure crashing through me as I screamed his name.

He groaned, buried deep, and came inside me, hot pulses filling me. But he stayed hard.

Without pulling out, he carried me to the bed, still inside me. Laid me down and started again, slower this time, deep rolls of his hips.

His mouth found my breasts again, sucking marks into the soft skin. “So beautiful,” he muttered. “All mine.”

He flipped me over onto my stomach, pulled my hips up, and entered me from behind. The new angle hit deeper. I gripped the sheets, moaning into the pillow.

He reached around, fingers on my clit again. “Come again, Faye. I want to feel it.”

I shattered a second time, body shaking. He followed right after, coming hard with my name on his lips.

We weren’t done.

He rolled us so I straddled him. He had his hands on my hips, guiding me as I rode him. Slow at first, then faster. His eyes never left mine.

“Touch yourself,” he said.

I did, fingers circling my clit while he thrust up into me. Third orgasm hit, blinding. He sat up, wrapped his arms around me, and came again, groaning against my neck.

Hours passed like that. Against the wall again. Me on my knees, his hands in my hair. Him behind me on the bed, slow and deep until I begged.

He came five times total, each one pulling another climax from me until my legs trembled and I could barely move.

Finally, we collapsed, sweaty and spent, with his arms around me tight.

After that night, everything changed—and nothing did.

For weeks, we couldn’t stay away from each other. At home, he pulled me into empty rooms, closets, his bed, and my bed. Fucked me slow and deep or fast and rough. Whispered dirty things in my ear. Marked my skin with his mouth.

Outside, he stayed mean. Snapped at me in front of others. Kept guys away with glares or threats. If anyone flirted with me, he stepped in fast.

One day at school, a guy from another class smiled at me in the hall. Thorn appeared out of nowhere, slung an arm around my shoulders, and told the guy to back off.

At home one afternoon, Rieka cornered me in the kitchen.

“Hey, random question,” she said, popping a chip in her mouth. “Does Thorn have a girlfriend? He’s been acting weird lately.”

My heart raced. “No,” I lied quickly. “He’s just moody as always.”

She shrugged. “Okay. Just wondering.”

Weeks turned into more weeks. The secret hookups got riskier. Hotter.

One night in my room, he had me bent over my desk, thrusting deep and steady from behind. My hands gripped the edge as quiet moans escaped me.

His hand covered my mouth gently. “Shh, baby. Don’t want anyone to hear how good I make you feel.”

He sped up, hitting that perfect spot over and over again as I pushed back against him, chasing release.

Then—knock knock knock.

“Faye?” Rieka’s voice came through the door. “You in there? I need to borrow your charger.”