His Fake Mark, Her Final Goodbye
Three days ago, Damon Ashford marked me.
The night he became Alpha, he sank his fangs into my neck under the moonlight. When his wolf blood mixed with mine, my wolf soul trembled violently. I thought the bond was taking root. I was too excited, too happy to tell the difference between real blood transfer and the simple sting of broken skin.
This morning I went to City Hall without telling him. I wanted to pick up our certificate and frame it for our bedroom wall. I wanted to surprise him.
The clerk checked the system, then looked up at me.
"Whitmore, the mark on your neck is fake. There is no trace of wolf blood exchange."
"Also, Ashford completed a formal registration with a woman named Clara Wellick two weeks ago."
Under wolf law, a mark must be registered within seven days or it becomes invalid. I came to register, only to find I was never registered at all.
I took off the scarf covering my neck and dropped it into the trash can outside City Hall.
Standing on the steps, I sent my brother a message.
Marcus, I’ll go with you for the closed medical research.