Marked by the Lycan King
For a second, just a second, there is a shimmer under my skin, faint and silver, and then it’s gone so fast I think I imagined it.
I’m tired. I’m imagining things. I get up and start walking back.
♦︎
The weeks that follow are the greyest of my life.
The pack talks. They always talk, but now they have material. The Lycan King rejected the curse-born at the Mating Ceremony not even a real rejection, they say, because you can only be properly rejected by a mate who considers you worth rejecting, and clearly, I was not.
My aunt’s satisfaction is quiet and thorough. She doesn’t say anything outright. She doesn’t have to.