The Black Mark’s Price

The bridge gave way with a roar of grinding stone. I lunged for Rowan, my fingers catching the collar of his tactical vest just as the center span vanished into the mist-choked gorge.

"I've got you!" I screamed, my muscles bulging with a strength that felt less like mine and more like the Beast’s.

We slammed into the jagged cliff face ten feet down, my fingers digging into the frozen earth of a narrow ledge. Above us, the Council Elders stood at the precipice, their white robes billowing like shrouds.

"The mark is manifesting!" the lead Elder shouted, his voice amplified by magic. "The corruption has spread to the Black-Ridge Alpha! Purge them both!"

A bolt of white light—pure, concentrated silver energy—sizzled past my ear, scorching the rock.

"Rowan, wake up!" I hissed, hauling him onto the ledge.

He was gasping, his skin gray. The black mark on his neck wasn't just a tattoo; it was pulsing, black veins crawling toward his jawline like a spreading poison. His silver eyes were swimming in darkness.

"Kaima..." he wheezed, his hand flying to his throat. "It’s... burning. What did you do to me?"

"I didn't do anything!"

The resonance, the Beast’s voice rumbled deep in my skull, sounding amused. He touched the vessel while the wine was pouring. He is anchored to us now, little omega. If we bleed, he chokes.

"Fix him!" I demanded in my head.

Only one way to stabilize a leaking bond, the Beast purred. Claim him back.

Another blast hit the ledge, sending a shower of stone over us. We were sitting ducks.

"Rowan, look at me," I commanded. I didn't have time to be shy. I grabbed his face, forcing him to meet my violet eyes. "You said you wanted to be the only one standing beside me. Don't you dare die on me now."

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

It wasn't a soft kiss. It was a collision. The moment our skin met, the air around us ignited. A literal shockwave of violet and silver light exploded outward, acting as a shield that reflected the Council’s next magical strike.

Rowan’s body jolted. His hands slammed into my waist, pulling me flush against him with a desperation that bordered on violent. The darkness in his eyes didn't vanish—it merged with the silver.

The black mark on his neck glowed a brilliant, lethal purple.

"Gods," he gasped against my mouth, his breath hot and ragged. The coldness in his scent was gone, replaced by the smell of scorched earth and primal musk. "The power... it’s too much."

"Deal with it," I snapped, pulling back, though my own heart was hammering against my ribs. "Because we have company."

The Council warriors were descending the cliff side on shimmering ropes of light. Behind them, on the safe side of the gorge, Damon was shouting orders, trying to reclaim his dignity.

"Kill the girl! Capture Rowan!" Damon’s voice echoed.

Rowan stood up, his height dwarfing me on the narrow ledge. He didn't look sick anymore. He looked like a god of war. He reached out, and a blade of solid shadows materialized in his hand.

"Damon really should learn when to shut up," Rowan growled. He looked at me, a smirk playing on his lips despite the literal army above us. "Ready to show them why they should have stayed in their ivory tower?"

"I’m ready to make them regret today," I said.

I turned toward the cliff wall. I didn't need a rope. I felt the Beast’s claws extending—not from my fingers, but from my very soul.

"Let's go," I whispered.

We didn't climb. We launched.