Marked By The Novels & Stories

“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.”

Stamped on the front: the crescent and three slashes. My stomach tightened. That mark is pack ink. It doesn’t belong in human soil. “That’s not supposed to be here,” I said, and I meant it in every way. A twig snapped behind the fence line, too close. A voice drifted over, amused. “Found something, witness?”

She turned. The mark was on her forehead, directly above the bridge of her nose, the size of a coin. Deep red, the particular shade of something that didn’t come from a birthmark or an injury. Symmetrical, deliberate, the edges clean in a way that skin doesn’t produce on its own.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

The taste of her goes straight to my head like the strongest liquor. I feel drunk on her, and I'm unable to help it. Our mouths finally break apart and I still find myself staring at her. My gaze drifts to the fresh bite mark on her neck. My mark. The skin around it is red, already beginning to heal with the supernatural speed, but still tender. “You alright?” I ask quietly, brushing my thumb just below the mark. Eva reaches up, touching it lightly with her fingertips. She winces a little, then nods.

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.

The mark. She had placed it on the child the night she left. The night of the battle, the night of the confusion and the burning and the terrible clarity that had arrived too late to help anyone. She had placed it on the child's neck with the old method, the one her own mother had taught her, the one that required the specific combination of wolf-blood intent and a physical mark pressed into skin that was still new and soft. It was a claiming mark. Not a mate mark. Not the bonding kind. The parental kind. The kind that was used, in the very old tradition, when a parent needed to be able to find a child who had been lost or sent away. A marker that ran through the bloodline and could be ident

Jace says it’s been quiet, but quiet never lasts long in rogue territory. I like the rhythm of it. Scanning trees for broken branches, sniffing for foreign scents, marking our own posts with quick scratches. It’s simple. Physical. No room for overthinking. Until there is. Jace stops abruptly near a cluster of pines. He crouches, fingers brushing the bark. “Fresh,” he mutters. I move closer. There it is: a deliberate claw mark, three parallel lines, shallow but precise. Not deep enough to scar the tree forever, just enough to say *we were here*.

"Marks." That single word tightened something in my stomach. He led us into a clearing surrounded by tall pines. Then I saw them. Symbols carved into the bark. Not random cuts. Deliberate. Sharp. One mark twisted downward like claws hooked around a crescent. Another had been carved deep enough that fresh sap bled slowly down the trunk. Grey stepped closer, frowning as he traced one symbol with his fingers. "Not rogues," he muttered. "These are… old." Kael studied the surrounding trees. "How many?"

Devil told her that if she hung out with me, it made things worst. But those things never hurt me as much as it hurt me to see him with other girls. After I got bitten, I felt a strange connection with him. It felt like a magnet was trying to pull me to him every time he was near. The tingles intensified if he accidently brushed against me. I also found him even more attractive and my hands kept itching to run through his hair or caress his face. Speaking of being bitten, my shoulder healed quickly, leaving a small crescent shaped mark behind. I found it weird, but oddly beautiful at the same time. It looked like a birthmark. The mark was right were my neck and collar bone met.

Marking me as his own. “Well, do you think you could walk? Or would you rather that I spoil you rotten today?” Damien teased. I knew that he would prefer me staying in bed, but this was something that every wolf wanted to gloat about too. Him marking me as his own was something that changed MY own self. I was now officially his Luna. “I don’t think that I could walk just yet, but I believe that you could carry me around for a while” I teased. Damien laughed and tickled my sides making me giggle. His eyes were fixed on my own when he hovered my body.