#Chapter 2 Mark

Harper’s POV

I can’t breathe…

I can’t breathe!

I’ve never been kissed before… Is it meant to be this terrifying? Surely not.

My eyes grow wide in disbelief, and when he finally pulls away, I have a moment to look at our surroundings, noticing how the crowd around us are mirroring my alarmed expression.

As if our kiss is a catalyst, enacting bad voodoo on the surrounding crowd, one catastrophe after another occurs before us.

One of the virgins swoons, gasping like a damsel in distress as she collapses, she collides into a servant carrying a tray of wine glasses that surges forward and into the face of a butler. Soaked in the liquid he stumbles backwards bumping into one of the guards who can’t help but drop his weapon, the sword clattering loudly against the marble flooring.

If this isn’t a sign. I don’t know what is…

The bunch of them flail about in embarrassment, but everyone else is too shocked to care. All eyes remain on me. Some of the girls even glare at me with beady eyes, like a horde of seagulls desperate for a meal, fanning themselves in outrage that I have been chosen over them.

Why on earth are they jealous! Being chosen means death! I’d give anything right now to be stood amongst them, rather than beneath the King’s devilish gaze.

It’s apparent that I have now become the center of attention. No longer am I just the weak and frail alpha who has a terrible sense of smell. I am now also the virgin that has been kissed by the masked King!

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I’m picked up bridal style, which is much more curtly than what I expected. His touch behind my back and beneath my knees vibrates through me instantly, and it’s as if the testosterone that seeps from his body awakens the woman in me. Should being kidnapped feel this enchanting?

I don’t have time to process the various hallways we walk through, because the next minute we are in a master bedroom, and he’s slamming the door shut!

He’s dangerous. I try to remind myself. But when he puts me down and presses my back against the wall, I’m all but lost in some strange fantasy novel.

My lips tingle in bizarre desire as he kisses me. His hands roam my body like a former lover, caressing all my most sensitive spots that send sparks flying within me. It’s like a war between my brain and body, as my physical form somehow relishes in submitting to such dominance.

But I have no experience. Zilch sexual understanding. To say I’m a virgin is an understatement. I’m probably the virgin of all virgins. The scum de la scum when it comes to any sort of sexual endeavors.

And yet, my body somehow knows what to do, knows to raise my chest as his fingers gently caress my waist, to expose my neck as he presses his nose and mouth into my skin, nipping and licking with feral longing.

What on earth is happening?

Before I can answer my thoughts, the King suddenly recoils, hands snapping upwards to grasp his head with such fierceness that it seems like he’s in pain, while a snarl wrestles past his teeth.

I flinch at first, worrying that I have done something to anger him. But my thoughts divulge as I finally notice his mask.

I gasp.

The mask is an eerie matt black sheet of armor like metal that covers half of his skull. It appears modeled to fit his perfectly symmetrical face and pressed artfully across the bridge of his nose. But what stands out the most are two golden ram horns that protrude from the top corners. They curve backwards to sit where I assume to be just below his ears.

What a dreadful reminder of the fact I still stand in the company of the devil. A man that has a distorted face, who has killed his parents, his brother and four of his future wives!

And I am number five…

Knowing I have just been fiercely kissed by such a tyrant, has my heart surging with infinite fear.

And yet, despite recalling who I stand in the presence of, my arm reaches out. As if acting on its own accord it slips underneath the layer of his shirt and my body shivers at the touch. ‘What, what, what's happening!’, I wonder. To which is when I hear Sara succumb to her sexual cravings.

‘Goodness… he has such a gorgeous body, doesn't he?’ she purrs.

I remain slightly mortified: ‘What are you doing? Sara, we're kissing and touching the devil!’

‘But his skin is really tight and bouncy, you should feel it!’

‘Urm… alright, I admit, his abs are sexy….-’ I blink, ‘Wait a minute, what am I thinking! He’s a ruthless, bloodthirsty Lycan King!’

I’m appalled by my lust. Just then his head snaps back up to me, staring at me as my hand remains planted against his lower chest, still relishing the heat of his skin. And despite the menacing mask that frames his eyes, there is something perceptive and intelligent about them as he stares at me stoically.

Is he just as fascinated with me as I am with him?

I might never know, because he suddenly moves. And like a cornered lamb, I shrink back into the shadow of the demonic man that stands before me.  He cages me in with his muscular frame, and his dragon-like breath etches fire across my skin as he brands me with his mark. Teeth sink down into my neck and I moan as the demon whispers.

“Mate.”

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Hours later I am left in a room within the palace, unable to do anything but stare blankly at a wall in complete disbelief, mulling over the fact that I had been sent here by the Beta and told to wait for the decision of the King.

“I’m going to die!” I wail, sobbing loudly as I pace the room, unable to sit still any longer.

The sleeves of my dress are drenched with my salty tears as I use them to wipe at my eyes. “I can’t believe the Lycan King is my fifth mate!” I say in astonishment.

‘We’re going to be his bride!’ Sara squeals giddily.

My hands grab the roots of my hair as I shake my head. “But I don’t want to marry a monster!”

I can’t help but imagine our wedding night, when the King finally takes off his mask. “What if he has three eyes! Or maybe he has tentacles on his face like a weird octopus!”

Sara’s face scrunches up in confusion at my strange fears: ‘I don’t think tentacles would fit so neatly under his mask,’

I huff in exasperation, “You never know! Maybe half of his face is purple!”

‘Ooooo purple is a pretty color!’

Nothing seems to be changing her mind on the situation, and in defeat I collapse on the floor, sobbing hysterically at the possibility that I could be marrying a three-eyed, half purple, octopus Lycan King! How can it be any worse?

Just as I’m tangling with my predicament, I suddenly receive a mind link from my father.

‘Father?’ I whimper.

‘I’ve heard the news that the King has kissed you in the palace square and taken you to his room.’

The news about what happened has spread already? ‘Father I-’

‘Do not return. You must do whatever is necessary to stay in the palace and become his bride. If you return I will have you expelled from my pack.’

‘But Father!’

‘Is. That. Clear?’

‘Yes.’