The Mark of Shame

I stared at the bottom of my third tequila shot, the lime wedge looking as shriveled and pathetic as my love life.

The club was loud—bass thumping through the floorboards and the smell of alcohol clinging to everything—but I felt myself floating. Three years. I’d given Marcus three years of my life, my notes for his exams, and my heart, only to find him pressed against Emiliana in our shared apartment.

"Another one, Elena?" the bartender asked, leaning over the counter.

"Make it a double," I muttered, sliding my last twenty across the table. "I’m celebrating being a complete idiot."

I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel. I just wanted to drown the image of Emiliana’s blonde hair fanned out on my pillows. My body itched, fuck i just wish I got my hands on her, but I ignored the thought immediately, reaching for the fresh glass.

"Elena, baby, please. Just listen to me."

The voice made my stomach turn. I didn't even have to look up to know it was Marcus. I could smell his cheap cologne and the desperation rolling off him.

"Go away, Marcus," I said, my voice flat.

He grabbed my stool, spinning me around to face him. He looked like a mess—his shirt untucked, his eyes bloodshot. "It was a mistake. Emiliana meant nothing. She came on to me, you know how she is. You can't just throw away three years because of one bad night."

"One bad night?" I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "I saw you, Marcus. You didn't look like you were having a bad time. Get out of my face."

I turned back to my drink, but he wasn't having it. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you. I’ve done everything for you. You're a scholarship kid from the dirt, Elena. Who else is going to want you?"

"Let go of me," I snapped, trying to pull away. The bar was crowded, but everyone was minding their own business. "You're hurting me."

"I'll let go when you—"

"She told you to let go."

The voice didn't come from behind me; it seemed to come from the very air itself. It was deep, smooth, and carried a weight that made the hair on my arms stand up.l

Marcus froze. I looked up and felt my breath hitch.

A man was standing a few feet away. He was tall—tall enough that he made Marcus look like a child. He was wearing a dark charcoal suit that looked like it cost more than my entire tuition. His hair was dark, neatly pushed back, and his eyes... they were a piercing, icy blue that seemed to glow in the dim light of the bar.

"Mind your business, pal," Marcus spat, though his grip on my arm loosened.

The stranger didn't move. He just tilted his head. "I am making it my business. Take your hand off her, or I will take it off for you."

There was so much power in his voice, he looked like he always gets his way.

Marcus looked at the man's size, then back at me. He scoffed, trying to save face. "Fine. Whatever. She’s a bitch anyway. Good luck with her." He shoved my arm back at me and scrambled toward the exit.

I trembled, the adrenaline finally hitting me. "Thank you," I whispered, reaching for my drink to steady my hands.

"You shouldn't be drinking that," the man said. He moved closer, stepping into my personal space. The scent of him hit me— woods, rain, and something intoxicating that made my heart race.

"I think I’ve earned it," I said, trying to regain my sharp tongue. "And who are you? My dad?"

He didn't smile. He reached out, his long fingers brushing the hair away from my face. His touch was electric. "I am the man who is going to take you home."

"I don't even know your name," I breathed. My head was spinning from the tequila, but my body was screaming for him to stay close.

"Names don't matter tonight, Elena."

My heart stopped. "How do you know my name?"

"I know things," he murmured. He leaned down, his lips inches from my ear. "I’ve been watching you all night. Watching you cry over a boy who isn't worth your breath. Why waste your tears when you could be screaming my name instead?" What the fuck?

Many girls would have moved away the instant a stranger says that to them but I stayed, feeling aroused immediately by his words. It must be the alcohol.

I should have run. I was a smart girl, a law student, a person with logic. But when he slid his hand down to the small of my back, pulling me closer to him, all my reasoning died. He felt like safety and danger all wrapped into one.

"My car is outside," he said, his voice a low vibration against my skin.

"Okay," I whispered.

We got the parking lot faster than I expected. He led me to a dark, sleek car, it looked fucking expensive. As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, he didn't wait.

He lunged for me, his mouth crashing onto mine. He placed his hand on my neck, giving me light squeeze while dominating the kiss, I groaned into his mouth, my hands tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer. I wanted to forget Marcus. I wanted to forget everything.

"So small," he growled against my throat, his hands roaming over my curves with a possessiveness that should have scared me. "So perfect."

He pushed my dress down, his eyes dark with a hunger that looked almost animalistic. I arched my back as his tongue found the sensitive skin of my neck.

“Fuck, I can't wait till we get to the hotel, I need a taste of you,” his voice came out deep and soft.

He licked my neck immediately, I felt a sharp, sudden heat there—a pressure that built and built until I thought I would burst.

"Please," I begged, not even knowing what I was asking for.

"Look at me, Elena," he commanded.

I opened my eyes, staring into that icy blue. He looked possessed. He grabbed me and placed me on top of him, his hands gripped my shoulders, his fingers bruising, and then he leaned in.

I expected a kiss. Instead, I felt teeth.

A sharp, stinging pain flared in my neck as he bit down. I gasped, my vision shaking, but the pain was instantly replaced by a wave of pleasure that made my entire body go numb. It felt like wonderful, my eyes rolled back as I moaned loudly.

"You're mine," he whispered. "Don't forget it."

Everything went black.