THE ALPHA KING'S MAID
Even asleep, his arm was wrapped around my waist with a firmness that said *you’re not going anywhere.
Then I saw my wrist.
Where the silver arrow had pierced me, where the wound should have left a scar, there was something else. A symbol. Small, the size of a coin, as if someone had engraved it with invisible ink that only showed under certain light. Angular lines curving into themselves, forming a pattern I recognized instantly.
Dark Tongue.
I had a demonic symbol tattooed on my wrist.
*“Pretty, isn’t it?”*
The inner voice. Soft, purring — like a cat stretching after a long nap.