Marked by the Lycan Prince のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 50

ADRIANThe walk to the cafeteria is usually something I look forward to. Food, noise, people. But today? Today, I feel like I’m stuck between two ticking time bombs.Iris walks on my right, Daisy on my left. Neither of them has said a word to the other since we left class. Their silence isn’t the peaceful kind, it’s suffocating. Thick. Heavy. Like I’m stuck breathing through cement.I clear my throat. Loudly. No one reacts. I slow down, stopping right in the middle of the hallway. They both pause, glancing at me but not at each other.“Alright,” I say, crossing my arms. “What’s going on?”They speak at the exact same time.“She-”“She’s being-”They both stop. Narrow eyes. Crossed arms. Oh good, now they’re fully glaring at each other.“Seriously?” I sigh. “Can one of you talk like a normal person?”“She accused me of betraying her,” Daisy snaps, voice sharp.“She did betray me,” Iris fires back, voice full of heat. “She told Zeus about the mark.”My brows shoot up. “What?”Daisy’s fa

IRISThe silver dress hangs on the back of the closet door like it knows it’s the star of the night, but it’s not mine.It’s Daisy’s.She’s been obsessing over it for a week, gushing about how it would shimmer under the chandeliers, how it was made for moments like tonight. Honestly, the way she’s been guarding it, you’d think it came straight off a royal runway. She’s barely even let me breathe near it.I, on the other hand, am wearing a dress that’s a little quieter, but no less stunning.It’s a deep emerald green, the kind that looks almost black in dim lighting, but rich and vibrant under warmth. The neckline dips into a tasteful sweetheart curve, and the back swoops low, exposing just enough skin to make me a little self-conscious. The satin fabric hugs my waist and flows down in soft layers, a thigh-high slit cutting daringly through one side. Simple, but it makes a statement. “You look like royalty,” Daisy says suddenly, breaking me from my thoughts.I glance over at her. She’

IRISThe door clicks shut behind me, muffling the soft hum of the hallway. I lean against it, exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The silence of my room wraps around me, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the party."Iris?" Daisy's voice calls out, tinged with concern."I'm fine," I reply, forcing a steadiness I don't feel. "Goodnight."I make my way to the vanity, the mirror reflecting a version of me I barely recognize. Eyes rimmed with unshed tears, lips pressed into a thin line, shoulders slumped under the weight of disappointment.What did I expect? That Darian would see me, truly see me, and choose me over duty? Over Adira? The thought is laughable.I reach up, fingers grazing the scar on my neck, the one he gave me. A bond formed in a moment of heavens-know-what, now a chain tethering me to a man who belongs to someone else.The memory of Adrian's arms around me that night offers little comfort. A fleeting moment of solace in a world that constantly reminds

IRISMy lips part as my breath leaves my body in a gasp, the sounds raw and ragged. My eyes flutter as my fingers curl around the mattress, bunching up the fabric in a desperate attempt to still hold onto some semblance of self control. I can’t help but whimper, my thoughts slowing down to a pause as I struggle to keep up with the sensations that are thrumming through my body. I can’t think, and I sure as hell can barely speak. But god, I can feel. I can feel Darian deeper than I have ever felt anyone, anything before, and I can almost swear that he is far deeper than my body should be able to take. The second he slipped into me, I could feel the way my walls stretched in a desperate attempt to accommodate his length. There was a slight burn to the intrusion, and my legs trembled as I struggled to keep them open. Darian didn't give me time to adjust, and he stared down at me with dark eyes like he knew it was almost too much for me, but he didn't care. He pulls out halfway, and

ADIRAHe pushed me.Again.It’s not the force of the fall that knocks the breath out of me. It’s the humiliation. The searing, blinding burn of being discarded like I’m nothing. My elbow throbs where I hit the floor, the sharp edge of the dresser cutting through skin I was too proud to protect.I blink at the ceiling, stunned. Not from impact. From rage.He pushed me. Again.Like I’m some nuisance. Some obstacle in the way of what he really wants.I force myself upright, teeth clenched. My knees wobble beneath me, legs trembling, not from weakness, but from the storm boiling under my skin. I touch my side and flinch. Wet. Warm. Blood.He doesn’t even know he hurt me.And I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.I stagger to my feet, using the edge of the bed to balance. My hand slips in my own blood on the floor. I wipe it away angrily, leaving streaks of red on the polished wood like a reminder that I was here. That I bled for this.I glance at the door he walked out of like I