Chapter 6

Celine

My body still trembled from his touch.

How ridiculous it sounded, that I responded to him like that. It made my skin crawl. My mind kept replaying it over and over — the way his mouth burned against my neck, the heat of his breath, the low growl in his throat when he marked me.

I hated him. Hated this place. Hated what he had done to me. But my body… my traitorous body… it had responded. I could still feel the tingling along my skin. No matter how many times I turned and turned in that oversized bed all night, sleep never came.

The sensation on my neck wouldn’t let me. It still feels hot and burning, it feels like his teeth are still there buried into my flesh.

When the pale gray light of dawn started creeping through the curtains, I finally threw off the sheets and stumbled to the bathroom. I gripped the sink, panting slightly. My reflection stared back at me, pale, wild-eyed, hollow.

And there — right on the side of my neck — it sat.

The mark.

A dark crescent of teeth, reddened skin surrounding it, almost like a brand. Like a fucking flag planted in me.

I gritted my teeth, hands shaking. Before I could even think about it, I grabbed the soap and scrubbed at it — hard, rough, desperate. I scrubbed until my skin turned raw, until tears stung my eyes, until the pain became almost unbearable.

But it didn’t fade. Not even a little.

I let out a strangled noise. Half frustration, half rage. My arms trembled as I leaned heavily on the sink. The room spun a little.

You are bound to him now.

The words rang in my head, sickening me.

I sank to the cold floor tiles, wrapping my arms around my knees. I didn’t even notice when the tears started. I curled into myself, my breath coming shallow. My mind screamed.

This isn’t happening.

This can’t be happening.

I’m not his. I’ll never be his.

But my body said otherwise. No matter how much I wanted to deny it — the bond was there. Faint, but real. Like a chain deep inside me that I could feel, even when I wanted to pretend it wasn’t there. What the hell was he thinking, did he think I will stay in this pack and breed for him, did he forget what marking an Omega meant? We'll be bound together forever and the thought of it sent shivers filed with rage through my body. I want to rip him apart in the presence of his pack.

I don’t know how long I sat like that. Maybe hours. When the sunlight was fully up, I crawled back to the bed and curled under the covers. My muscles ached, my eyes heavy with exhaustion, but sleep still refused to come.

At some point, I heard footsteps approaching.

My body tensed. I stayed still, forcing my breathing slow.

The door opened.

I peeked out from under the covers just enough to see him.

Alaric.

Tall, broad, in dark clothes that looked like they belonged to a king. His cold gaze swept over me once, unreadable. He had a presence — thick, heavy, filling the room. Like the air itself was harder to breathe with him in it.

Behind him trailed a young maid — head bowed, trembling slightly. She carried a silver tray and a small basket of glass bottles.

Alaric didn’t say a word to her. Just gestured once.

“Set it there,” he ordered flatly.

The maid hurried to the table near the window and placed the tray down — a simple meal, some bread, fruit, what looked like tea. Then she set down the basket — oils, probably. For the mark, no doubt.

Without another glance, she scurried out the door. It clicked shut behind her.

Leaving us alone.

I sat up slowly, glaring at him from across the room. My throat ached from holding in the anger, the hatred.

He turned toward me, arms folded loosely over his chest. His gaze locked on mine — cold, sharp, and impossibly calm.

I couldn’t take it.

“What the fuck do you want now?” I spat, voice hoarse.

Alaric arched one brow, slow and deliberate. “To see if you’ve come to your senses.”

Wait! He doesn't think he made a terrible mistake marking me? It was intentional? That was it. The final crack in my control.

I threw back the covers and climbed out of the bed, feet slapping the cold floor. My hands balled into fists at my sides. “Come to my senses?” I hissed. “After what you did? You fucking monster!”

His eyes flickered, just for a second, but his voice remained infuriatingly calm. “I warned you. You were chosen. The bond is sealed. It is done.”

I shook my head violently, my hair falling wild around my shoulders. “You had no fucking right. You stole my life. You used me like I was nothing but… breeding stock.”

He stepped forward then, slow and steady, until he stood just a few feet away. His scent hit me — rich, earthy, dark. My body hated me for noticing.

“I had every right,” he said softly, though the edge in his voice was sharp as a blade. “The Moon chose you. You can hate me all you want. You just have to carry my heir.”

My stomach twisted. I could barely breathe.

“Oh,” he added, voice lower now. “And be reminded — you are bound to me now. You’re mine. My mark is on you like a curse.”

The room tilted slightly. I gritted my teeth, hands trembling. My vision blurred from fury.

“Fuck you,” I spat. “I will never be yours. I would rather bite my own fucking tongue and bleed to death than carry your heir.”

His jaw tensed. That cold mask of his cracked, just a sliver.

“Then do it,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “But it won’t change what you are to me now.”

Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I blinked them away furiously.

“You’re disgusting,” I whispered. “You think this makes you powerful? It makes you a fucking coward.”

His eyes darkened. He took another step toward me — now close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

For one terrifying moment, I thought he might grab me again. I tensed, ready to fight, even knowing it was useless.

But instead, he simply looked at me for a long beat. Then turned away.

“Eat,” he said, gesturing to the tray. His voice was cold again, distant. “You’ll need your strength.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at his back as he crossed the room.

At the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“You may hate me,” he said softly. “But that won’t change what’s been done.”

And with that, he left.

The door clicked shut.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My knees nearly gave out, but I forced myself to stay standing. My chest heaved with the force of everything inside me — rage, fear, hate… and something else. Something deeper. Something I couldn’t name yet.

I turned back to the bed. The bite still throbbed on my neck. Maybe because I am strongly rejecting it, but does marking hurt this bad for this long?

I couldn't eat. Eat? I doubt anything can go through my throat at the moment, I feel like throwing up instead.

Slowly, I walked to the table. I picked up the tray and, with shaking hands, dumped it all into the trash bin by the wall. Every last bite.

Then I curled back on the bed, fists tight under the pillow.