Marked By My Novels & Stories

Her voice was serious it made me think she knew something about us. " What?" I panicked " Calm down. I know something is going on between you, especially with the hickey that gets renewed every day Like he doesn't want his mark to fade" I blushed. Fuck Adam. Why the hell would he put a mark if he was trying to keep it secret? I couldn't say a word to defend myself, I just sat there blushing. She laughed. " So?" She said waiting for an answer to her question. " I am not sure what I feel anymore. My emotions are jumbled together" I told her. It was true.

It was really annoying because he could see her gentle smile each time he closed his eyes. Ace wished he couldn't mark her. He cursed himself a million times for being carried away by emotions. Ace got carried away by the love that he had for his mate because he had been longing to see her for years. That's why he decided to mark her. Ace wanted the fucking world to know that he was his, exclusively his. The destined mate that he had been looking for. The door clicked open and Alexander walked inside Ace's room. Alexander was the only person who could stand Ace when he was in that condition.

And there was certainly no reference to a ring of blood. I read the captions on the map, and still couldn’t find anything. Then, I saw it. There, at the bottom of the map, was a footnote. Beneath the caption for the Old State House. It read: “At the base of the building, on the street, stands the spot commemorating where the Boston massacre occurred.” “Here,” I said excitedly, pointing. “The Boston Massacre. There’s nothing about a ring, but that certainly qualifies for blood.”

Mark each other? I blushed. Memories of our wedding night flooded through me. Liam marked me that night, alone in our bedroom. I could still feel the sharp pain of his teeth sinking into my shoulder, followed by the exquisite, euphoric feeling. I hadn’t known what to expect that night. I’d heard other people talk about being marked, and how it changed everything.

“She has a mark.” The words land harder than they should. For a second, I just stare at him. Then my gaze drops back to June. Slowly. Carefully. My eyes move over her, past the blood, past the rise and fall of her chest, until they find it. There. On the left side, just beneath her ribs. A mark. It is not like ours. Not like anything I have seen before. A crescent. Curving softly against her skin. And at its center, a star.

A symbol had been carved into the ground beside him. Not messy. Not rushed. Precise. A sharp, angular mark etched into the earth, stained dark. Blood filled the lines. Mia frowned. “What is that?” she asked. No one answered at first. Mark crouched beside the symbol, eyes scanning it carefully. Recognizing—not guessing. “That’s not random,” Luca said quietly. “No,” Mark replied. Mia stepped closer. “Then what is it?” Silence stretched. Mark stood. “A signature.” The word hit harder than she expected.

he whispers, voice thready, “come here.” I don’t move. My heartbeat hurts. “What mark?” I whisper. Ezra steps toward me, hands trembling. “Aiden—just—come here.” “Ezra, what mark?” His face crumples as if I’ve stabbed him. “Please.” I lift my shirt slightly, breath held— And freeze. There, over my heart, faintly glowing beneath the skin, is a shape. A black sigil. Thin, delicate lines spiraling inward like a brand left by something not human.

The command to run. Realizing there was light filtering through the tall windows — pale morning light — my attention snapped from my surroundings to my neck all of a sudden, the memory hitting me painfully. The mark. My fingers trembled as they slowly rose to touch it. The same person had marked me last night. Even though it had been brief. Even though it had not been complete. I hated it. I hated the idea that someone had marked me without me knowing it. Without my permission. Without my choice.

A shadowed imprint where my hand had once fit perfectly. “Don’t cover it up,” I said. She let out a sharp, humorless scoff. “You mean how you almost strangled me in the name of… whatever that was?” I didn’t answer immediately. I studied the mark. Not with guilt but with ownership. “You’re marked, mio,” I said calmly. “Wear it proudly.” The wind lifted her hair again, brushed it across her cheek. She stared at me like she was weighing whether madness could be contagious. “You’re insane,” she said, not even surprised anymore.

His breath hitched slightly and I pulled my damp shirt aside exposing my chest to him. His eyes darkened as he took in my lacy bra but I didn’t care, I turned my back so he could see it. The mark. Three deep slashes carved across my back. Permanent marks cursed into my skin. I felt his gaze on it and he stepped closer. “What…” he started and then stopped. His breath caught and I knew he saw it clearly now and recognized it. “It doesn’t heal,” I said quietly. “No matter what I do.” “No,” he whispered.