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Chapter 13 - Marked

last update Huling Na-update: 2025-07-18 17:45:56

Raven didn’t wake with an alarm. She woke with a sting. A dull, pulsing ache at her hip, warm and bruised and possessed. She stretched beneath the silk sheets, her body sore in places she didn’t want to name aloud. Her thighs throbbed with the memory of ropes. Her neck bore the ghost of his mouth. But it was the ache on her upper thigh that tugged her from sleep like a whisper with teeth.

She padded barefoot into the bathroom, hair wild, throat dry. The light was too bright, but she flicked it on anyway, bracing herself against the sink. And there it was. A bruise, deep red, purple at the edges, already darkening.

A bite. But not just any bite. The shape was too intentional, too precise. An indentation of teeth, curved perfectly around a deeper press near the center.

The letter J.

She gasped softly, touched it, then hissed.

It wasn’t the pain that startled her. It was the way it made her throb.

He had marked her and her first instinct wasn’t to scrub it away, it was to trace it.

She wore loose black trousers that night, wide-legged and sleek. No skirt. No tights. No lace. Just enough fabric to hide the evidence. Just enough to pretend it was her decision, but every step she took reminded her it wasn’t.

She walked like a secret. One only he could read.

The moment she stepped into Club Eden, the music hit her like heat. A slow, hypnotic thrum. Bodies pressed together on the floor, shadows dancing in sync with sin. The scent of perfume, sweat, and something more primal curled around her like a drug.

She didn’t look for him, she felt for him and it didn’t take long.

Jaxon Morreau stood near the balcony, talking quietly with a man in a suit too expensive to belong to anyone without blood on their hands. They spoke in low tones, heads slightly bowed.

But Jaxon’s eyes flicked to hers the moment she entered. A slow, deliberate once-over, then a flicker of satisfaction. He knew she’d found the mark and he knew what it was doing to her.

Talia found her behind the main bar twenty minutes later, pulling her aside like the room was on fire.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“I was with Jaxon.”

“I know that,” she snapped. “You disappeared for a full night, Raven. You didn’t answer your texts. You didn’t check in.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Talia’s eyes flashed. “You’re marked.”

Raven stilled. “What?”

Talia lowered her voice. “You’re glowing like a girl who’s been claimed, and in Eden? That’s dangerous.”

Raven looked away. “It’s just a bruise.”

“No. It’s a warning.” Talia folded her arms. “He left it on purpose.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still here?”

Raven didn’t answer, because she didn’t want to leave, because every time she thought about the pressure of his mouth against her thigh, the way he bit just hard enough to hurt, but not enough to break, she felt owned and it wasn’t shame she felt, it was belonging.

She found him hours later, alone in his office, the city lights spilling across his desk in sharp white lines.

He didn’t look up when she entered, just said, “You wore the bruise well tonight.”

Her pulse kicked. “You left it on purpose.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He looked at her finally, "Because I could. Because I wanted to. Because you let me," he thought, but none of those words left his mouth.

Instead, he walked around the desk and stopped in front of her. “Take off your pants.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“Let me see it.”

She hesitated. Her heart thundered. But she obeyed. Button by button, she undid her trousers. Slid them down, hips first, then thighs, until the fabric puddled at her ankles. Black silk panties remained.

Jaxon crouched and looked. He didn’t touch the bruise. Didn’t press it. He just watched, like a king inspecting the seal he left on his conquest. “You still feel it?”

“Yes.”

He looked up. “Do you like it?”

Raven’s throat tightened. “Yes,” she whispered.

He reached for the hem of her panties, slid them down slowly, reverently, until she stepped out of them and stood bare before him. “Then you’ll wear more of me soon.”

Later that night, Raven lay in his bed. She wasn’t supposed to be there, not again, but Jaxon hadn’t asked her to leave and she hadn’t tried to.

They didn’t speak. Just silence, and a hand on her hip, thumb brushing the bruise absentmindedly as if to remind her, "I put this here."

It wasn’t a collar, nor a chain, but it felt like ownership and she didn’t resist.

In the early hours, she snuck into his private study while he slept. It was stupid. Reckless. Maybe suicidal, but the question that burned in her brain wouldn’t let her sleep:

"Was she the first he’d marked like this?"

She found the cabinet, locked. She remembered the code. Had seen it once when he thought she wasn’t looking.

The safe hissed open. Inside: files. Photos. Documents stamped with Eden’s insignia and blanked-out government IDs. She didn’t touch most of them.

Only one caught her eye. A photo of a girl. Late twenties. Blonde. Strong jaw. Sharp eyes.

Sabine Ruelle. That name hit like a slap.

She knew it. Everyone in the city knew it. Sabine was a tragedy whispered about in the elite circles, Jaxon’s late fiancée. The woman who fell from a penthouse balcony. The one no one ever talked about.

Raven traced the edge of the photo. And then she saw it. Bare skin. A bite. Same place. Same mark.

Same J.

Her stomach twisted, not the first, not his only.

She returned the photo, locked the safe, and climbed back into bed beside him like nothing had happened, but something had and she couldn’t un-know it.

The next day, Raven didn’t speak much. She moved through Eden like a ghost in stilettos. The mark on her thigh was still there,though by now it was darker and deeper, but it didn’t feel like a crown anymore, it felt like a chain.

She found Talia backstage in the dressing room and sat beside her, wordless for a moment.

“He marked me,” she said finally.

Talia nodded.

“I found the same mark… on someone else.”

Now Talia looked at her.

“Sabine,” Raven whispered.

Talia’s breath hitched.

“I saw it in a photo.”

“She was the only one he ever brought home,” Talia said softly. “Not just to the penthouse. To his mother. To board meetings. He was going to marry her.”

“What happened?”

Talia hesitated. “Some say she jumped. Others say she was pushed. All I know is… Jaxon disappeared for two months after, and when he came back, he was different.”

Raven felt the blood drain from her face. “He’s not over her,” she said.

“No,” Talia agreed. “But that’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

Talia met her eyes.

“He’s trying to forget her with you.”

That night, Raven confronted him. Not with rage or tears, but with silence.

She stood in the dungeon again, at his command, naked except for the blindfold he’d placed over her eyes. His hands moved down her spine, slow and possessive, but she didn’t moan or flinch.

“Say something,” he whispered.

“I saw the photo,” she said.

Silence.

“Sabine.”

His touch stilled.

“I’m not her,” Raven said.

“I know.”

“Then stop trying to make me bleed like she did.”

The silence that followed was the deepest she’d ever heard. Then he stepped in front of her and pulled off the blindfold.

“I marked you,” he said. “Not because you reminded me of her, but because for the first time since losing her…”

His voice faltered. “You made me feel alive again.”

Raven’s eyes burned. “Then mark me again,” she whispered. “But this time… make it mine.”

He didn’t use teeth that night, he used his tongue, his hands and his voice. He claimed her over and over, not with pain, but with reverence.

When she came, it wasn’t from force, it was from the shattering of a wall she didn’t know she’d been holding andd when he finally bit her again, lower, near her inner thigh, he didn’t leave an initial, just a bruise that was tender, raw and real.

Back in her room, she stared at the first bite in the mirror, that was fading now, less distinct, but the second one, it was new, hot, theirs, and it was still fresh.

She traced it with a fingertip, then opened her journal: He marked me twice. Once for possession. Once for truth.

I saw her face. Saw her bruise. I thought it meant I was a replacement, but I was wrong. It means he remembers and this time, he’s afraid of forgetting me too.

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