Marked By Novels & Stories

Wrists bound. Black ink smeared along her ribs. A letter carved shallowly into her skin. It was a symbol carved into her chest, with signature of a capital letter M at the end of the symbol. 'An M?!'. Elara’s breath stuttered. The same signature. The same mark. Her mind screamed. She looked back to the crowd. Marek's cloak shifted as he rose slowly from his seat. Time seemed to slow. As he turned away, disappearing into the crowd, she caught the last glimpse of him.

I turned to my side to study him quietly. In sleep, he looked younger. All the sharp lines he always had written all over his face have softened and his brow looks relaxed. He looked… human. My eyes traveled down his bare chest, my eyes traced the faint lines of muscle, and I saw the subtle scars I had noticed before but decided not to ask about them. Then my gaze stopped, and I looked closely. On his arm. He had a dark, crescent-shaped birthmark just below his shoulder. It didn't look large but it was impossible to miss once you saw it.

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.

“Well… that’s interesting.” Aria’s voice trembled. “Tell me.” I swallowed slowly. “There’s a mark.” Damon’s eyes sharpened. “What kind of mark?” I stepped back slightly so they could see. The baby’s chest glowed faintly. And the mark rested right above the heart. Aria gasped softly. “I’ve seen that symbol before.” Lucian nodded. “Yeah.” Cassian spoke quietly. “So have I.” Damon looked from one face to another. “You’re all acting like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The fabric pools at my feet. Then a voice cuts through the stillness. “Sister!” I turn to Pelin. Her eyes are fixed on me, wide, burning with a shock she cannot speak. She has seen them. The scars. Glowing in the moonlight. Not just that I am marked but Marked twice.

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 will… I will…” She hugged me again, even tighter. As she held me, the mark on my chest suddenly grew hot. It was so hot that I flinched.Then, without warning, a bright light burst from my chest and filled the entire court. Gasps filled the room. Everyone shielded their eyes as the light grew stronger until the whole hall glittered. The darkness outside even faded as if the sun had returned. “What is happening?” someone whispered. “She’s glowing!” another elder shouted. Then someone cried out, “She’s the Marked Luna!”

She spun, knife up, searching the dark. “The next one won’t be,” she warned. “I hope not,” I murmured, stepping easily over her trap. “I’d hate to be disappointed in my future mate.” Her knife flashed through the air. I caught it by the handle, the blade halting inches from my cheek. The silence let me enjoy the weight of it in my hand... well-balanced, sharp, wrapped in weathered leather. Mara’s mark was carved near the base: a crescent moon and three lines. Old rebellion. Old blood. She’d likely never told Maeve what it meant.

The bite scar was what was referred to as a mark and it was a permanent thing. Females carried the mark of their mates proudly for the rest of their lives. It served as a sign to indicate that a particular female was mated and therefore could not be taken by another male. Allowing Klaus to mark me would be like a giant billboard telling everyone that I was his. But was being his such a bad idea? I couldn’t believe I was contemplating this. Did he want to mark me translate to us having a lasting relationship? Wolf Marks was permanent after all. I would be sure to ask him why he wanted to mark me later.

I woke up from the sound of my stomach growling, without a word; I stood up from lying on my bed; my face was a little hurt from the incident earlier when I saw my reflection, a big purple bruise. I sighed and held my cheek, and started to heal myself. My mom and dad were fascinated with my gift for healing, but it wasn't extravagant; like the doctors from our tribe, I could heal simple wounds or, like mine—Bruises.