Marked By My Mga Nobela at Kwento

Don't worry. A sigh escaped my lips. I tossed the note aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Standing up, I grabbed a clean black shirt from the chair and walked over to the tall, silver-rimmed mirror resting against the wall. As I pulled the fabric over my broad shoulders, I paused, my gaze fixing on the reflection. Right at the base of my neck, a dark-red marking stood out starkly against my skin. The mark Elara had stamped onto mine the moment I claimed her last night.

Dalton called trying to get my mother's attention I don't think it working. "Do you want to know how you got that mark on your back"? She asked me still boiling in annoyance. The mark on my back, it looks cool so I don't know why she is bringing it up. When I asked her about the mark she told me it was a birth mark, I found it so cool because it looks like a dog foot print and my friends finds it cool, and looks exactly like a tattoos. So I don't understand how my birth mark relate with my father.

I don't answer. My room is exactly how I left it. Unmade bed. Half-empty coffee cup. Sketchbook open to a half-finished drawing of a wolf I don't remember drawing. I slam the door shut and press my back against it, sliding to the floor. My hands shake as I roll up my sleeve. The mark is still there. And for the first time, in the dim light, I realize It looks like a bite.

I drop the paint brush on the ground; I went ahead, already facing the door, Immediately I met the door back to Its normal look; not even a grain of paint is seen. "Okay! What the fuck; is it magic?" I spoke with a question. Mom laughs, she grabs my hand and we both walk away from the door, we stand at the gate and from there, I saw strange makings at the door. That’s!” I say but did not know how to finish my statement; that is when mom helped me out! "That's the called an enchantment mark, it forbids werewolves or anything supernatural to come Into an apartment without being invited," Mom walk back to the door.

Her mark was bold and clear, staring right back at me and inwardly I cursed myself for missing for so long. “I must have missed… I-I… I… Samiya, is… is that a tattoo or a birthmark?”

For one stupid second, my mind goes straight to Zahra. I take in the girl. She's pretty enough, in a manufactured, plastic kind of way. Fake tits. Hair extensions in platinum blonde. She leers at me, showing off her mark. I look at it. Instead of the beautiful, extravagant filigree of most marks I've seen, like the ones my friends all wear, unique to each mated couple and incorporating elements of both of them, this one is small, with little detail. It's not much more than a black circle with a few dots on it.

I sat up abruptly, breath catching as I scanned the room. White walls. Dark wood. A single window set too high to reach. Not a cell. Not freedom either. My hand flew to my left shoulder. The bandage was gone. Bare skin greeted my fingers—and beneath it, the Mark. I didn’t need a mirror to know it was there. My body remembered. The symbol lived under my skin like a second pulse, faint but undeniable. A slow throb answered my touch. I pulled my hand away sharply. “No,” I whispered, more plea than command.

He patted my hair and left. I hated to admit it, but he was right. I need to know what the mark was about. So I turned on my heels and made my way to the library instead. Better to know what devil I called in this time. The library didn't have anything on the mark, not even in the history notes. After almost five hours, I managed to cone across the image in a very old book and all it has was its name. It was an Anchor and Shield oath mark Apparently, it was an anchor and shield oath and I was right. It doesn’t share any pain.

To our salvation. A vision hit me then her eyes in the dark, wide with recognition. The soft gasp of her breath. The press of her palm against my chest. The burn where the bond would mark us both. I stumbled back, shaking. “We meet tonight,” I murmured, chest heaving. We mark tonight, my wolf growled, savage and certain. And no force in this realm or the next will keep us from her. The wind howled around the Pack House, echoing the truth I could no longer deny.

Liora gasped softly, her body arching into Christen’s touch, as if she could sense what was about to happen. Christen’s wolf mark seared into Liora’s skin, a bond eternal and unbreakable. The sensation was both painful and exhilarating, a brand that marked Liora as his and his alone. Liora’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as she felt the heat of the mark spreading through her. Her body trembled, not in fear, but in surrender, her trust in Christen absolute. “You’re mine,” Christen murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. His lips brushed against Liora’s ear, his breath warm and inviting. “Forever.”