Marking Her

Adrain panted, his last thread of resistance fraying. "If someone sees—"

Lira's smile was predatory triumph as she pushed him back against the shed wall. "Right here," she purred, her voice dripping with vicious satisfaction. "Where she can smell me on you before she leaves. I want her to be as restless as I get when you reek of her. Let her wolf howl when you embrace her goodbye. Let her wonder why her precious mate carries the scent of another woman's pleasure."

The calculated cruelty hit Nyma like a physical blow. This wasn't just betrayal—it was psychological warfare designed to destroy her from the inside out.

"Lira—" Adrain's protest died as she captured his mouth in a kiss that was all claiming hunger and desperate possession.

Nyma's wolf howled inside her chest, a soundless cry of agony as she watched her mate surrender completely. His hands fisted in Lira's hair as he spun her around, pressing her against the ancient oak with the same desperate hunger he'd once reserved for his wife.

Lira's legs locked around his hips, her claws raking down his back with possessive savagery—marking territory, claiming what she believed was hers. Her teeth found the mate mark on his neck, the sacred place where Nyma's own fangs had once sealed their bond with love and trust.

"Yes," Lira gasped against his throat, her voice a throaty purr of satisfaction. "Mark me back, Rain. Show me I'm still your first choice when duty isn't watching."

Every ragged breath, every bitten-off moan, was a silver dagger twisting in the mating bond. The connection didn't just show her the betrayal—it forced her to feel his pleasure, his desperate want, like molten fire licking through her veins. The bond that should have protected her instead became an instrument of exquisite torture.

Through their cursed connection, she felt his heart racing, felt the heat building in his blood, felt the exact moment his control shattered like glass. The wet, hungry sounds of flesh against flesh filled the clearing, accompanied by Lira's triumphant moans and Adrain's desperate growls.

"This is what you've been missing," Lira panted, her voice thick with satisfaction. "This fire, this need. Not duty, not political necessity—just raw, honest desire."

Adrain's response was a growl that spoke of complete surrender, of barriers finally crumbling after months of careful restraint. His teeth found her throat, canines lengthening with primal intent.

"Mark me," Lira commanded, her voice breaking with desperate hunger. "Show her who you really belong to. Show her that some bonds run deeper than marriage certificates and political alliances."

Nyma stumbled backward, one hand clutching her swollen belly where their child kicked restlessly, as if sensing her anguish. Through the bond, she felt the exact moment Adrain's fangs broke skin—not her skin, not the throat he'd claimed on their wedding night, but the neck of the woman who'd been systematically destroying their marriage from within.

The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth through their connection. Not her blood—Lira's. The marking that should have been sacred, exclusive, was being shared with another. The bond pulsed with his satisfaction, his completion, his claim on someone who wasn't his wife.

"Mine," Adrain rasped against Lira's throat, and the word carved itself into Nyma's soul like a brand.

"Always," Lira gasped back, her laugh breathless with victory. "Always yours, my prince. No matter who wears your ring."

This wasn't just physical betrayal. This was the systematic destruction of everything sacred between them, performed with calculated precision to inflict maximum damage.

The sounds escalated—desperate, hungry, utterly without shame. Each moan was a knife in her heart, each gasped endearment a poison dart aimed at the foundation of her world. Through the mating bond, she felt his climax building, felt his desperate surrender to desires he'd been denying, felt the exact moment he stopped fighting what he truly wanted.

When it was over, when the clearing fell silent except for their ragged breathing, Nyma heard the most devastating sound of all:

"I've missed this," Adrain whispered against Lira's neck, his voice raw with satisfaction and something that sounded like coming home. "Missed you."

Lira's answering laugh was pure venom wrapped in silk: "I know, darling. I know exactly what you've been missing with your little pet project upstairs. That's why I'm here to give you what she can't..."

Pet project. As if their marriage, their child, their entire life together was nothing more than a political convenience he endured while his real desires lay elsewhere. And it was also true since their marraige they hadn't been intimate because the old preistess had restricted them from being fully intimate as their baby pup was growing inside. 

Nyma stumbled backward, one hand pressed to her mouth to stifle the sound threatening to tear from her throat, the other clutching her swollen belly where their child moved restlessly, as if sensing her distress.

She'd seen enough. Heard enough. Felt enough through their cursed bond to understand exactly what her marriage had been built on.

Adrain rasped, but his teeth were at Lira's throat, his canines lengthening. Was he marking her?