CHAPTER FIVE: His teeth sank into my neck (Marked)

Nira’s POV

“If I can’t walk out,” I whispered, “then I’ll carve myself a throne inside the situation.”

Something presented itself in his expression, surprise, maybe even approval, but it was gone too quickly for me to name.

He turned, pacing toward the shelves that lined the wall, stacked with maps, weapons, and scrolls bound in dark leather. “You’re either reckless or desperate. Probably both.” He pulled a bottle of amber liquid from between the shelves, poured a single glass into a glass he also took from there, and set it in front of me without asking. “Drink. If you’re going to bargain with me, you’ll need steel in your blood.”

I didn’t hesitate. Hesitation often meant weakness in the eyes of Alphas.

"Gah...." I set the cup down. "It tastes like piss."

He laughed, "Expensive piss."

Hozrik leaned back against the edge of the table, arms folded. “Back to business. You say you want revenge. But revenge is not just a word; it is not a wish, and sometimes, it is a war. And wars demand more than anger. They demand loyalty and sacrifice.” His eyes glowed like twin suns in the dim room. “Do you have that in you, Nira?”

My hand tightened around the glass. “He took my child and left me to burn. Tell me what I wouldn’t sacrifice to see him on his knees.”

“Good.”

He pushed himself upright. “Then every breath you take from this moment on belongs to Nightbourne.”

“Kneel.”

The command wasn’t shouted. But it carried more than enough weight for me to obey. I lowered myself slowly to my knees. The cloak slid down one shoulder, baring the scar Bran had left across my belly.

“Swear it,” he commanded. “Swear yourself to me, to Nightbourne. Swear that you will rise and fall at my command until your vengeance is done. Swear that I can trust you.”

I had made this oath to Bren once.

“I swear,” I whispered. “By blood, by scar, by what was stolen from me, I am yours, Hozrik Nightbourne. Until our alliance is complete.”

He instructed me to stand, rising to his full, towering height again. “Stand. Tomorrow, we will make this official.”

__________

Every head turned toward me as the doors opened.

I stepped forward.

The gown I wore was black, deep as midnight, stitched with threads that shimmered like spilled ink under the firelight. It trailed behind me like smoke, and I couldn't help but think of its designer.

The Nightbourne wolves shifted in their seats, muttering amongst themselves. Probably, they had envisaged a white wedding dress instead.

Nah, I was done with white.

The priest cleared his throat, exchanging glances with me.

“On this night, beneath the witness of the Moon, we gather—”

His words faltered; I'm pretty sure he had advised Hozrik not to marry this way. At the far end of the aisle stood Hozrik Nightbourne. My future, and of course, my weapon. Staring daggers into the priest.

The light from the torches seemed to bend toward him, highlighting his broad shoulders and unruly black curls. His molten eyes fixed on me. And then he smiled, a wicked smile.

“There is my bride,” he said, his voice carrying through the hall.

The priest sputtered faintly at the interruption, but no one else moved; not a soul dared to breathe wrong when Hozrik spoke.

The aisle stretched, but I crossed it without faltering. I was nervous, yes. But the benefits of this union outweighed that.

At last, I stood before him. The priest, coughing, raised his book.

“Do you, Nira of Ember light, vow to—”

"Yes."

Hozrik chuckled.

“So do I, it'll get me my birthright, so why the fuck not?”

The priest hesitated, lost in our desecration of tradition before continuing. “Then let the bond be sealed—”

Hozrik didn’t wait for him to finish.

“This is the part,” he murmured, so only I could hear, “where you stop being his and start being mine.”

And then his teeth sank into my neck.

Pain flared in my system. I wanted to scream, but I held down the pain. Bran had marked me once, but it didn't hurt this much.

"Shss, it'll take longer, I have to erase the previous mark on your neck."

His hand held my waist firmly, pinning me in place as I forced my grunts back.

People had stood up to look now. I imagine how it would've felt for Hozrik's sharp teeth to invade my neck like that. When he pulled back, his eyes gleamed, lips painted with my blood, and he didn't bother to wipe it away.

"You taste better than I expected."

He reached to lick the blood off my neck, but I motioned to his.

"My turn."

"Impatient are we?"

He tilted his head, baring his throat and neck. My hand reached out to grab his neck.

"My fangs are not that sharp, so it'll hurt."

He stretched his neck.

"What do you take me for? An alpha or a unicorn. Bite."

I did. The taste of him was iron and intoxicating spice, untamed power flooding across my tongue. His blood burned as it slid down my throat, and a strange sense of satisfaction flooded my veins as my mark formed on his neck, small, intricate lines winding down to his Adam's apple.

When I pulled back, blood stained my lips, my jaw, my chin. Hozrik dragged his thumb across my mouth, smearing the blood one final time.

There, it was complete.

"Any objections to this sacred union?"

The priest asked for formality's sake. No one was mad enough to object. Although I could tell the priest badly wanted to, I couldn't blame the old man. After all, marriage wasn't meant to be a political matter.

"If there is no one then, I pronounce you both, mates, two halves of one soul before the moon goddess, now and eternally till—"

"That's enough." Hozrik interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. He turned to me, letting his black ceremonial coat hit the ground.

"Is my bride ready for phase one of her revenge?"