Fane

ound his stage, and I was the unwilling star of his savage play. My wolf, usually so q

cles were coiled steel beneath his skin. "Theron," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper. I tried t

r, but I felt a flicker of

ought

a waterskin, her expression a mixture of awe and timid courage.

eply. As he lowered it, a faint, familiar scent drifted towards me. Chamomile. *My* chamomile. The tea I drank every night. He'd steeped i

olf, I gave Xiyue a small, apologetic smile. A tiny,

tting a match

tightened until I was sure the bone would crack. The warm scent of pine and storm sharpened, laced with the aggressive, elec

ou made her like you!

rm. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. His silence was a physical weight, pressing down on me with every step as h

shut, the sound echoing the frantic beat of

hed down on mine. It wasn't a kiss of relief or passion; it was a punishment. A bruising, dominant claiming that ta

assed, leaving in its wake the deceptive calm of a predator at rest. He had taken what his wol

ke me. The soft

k velvet box. He opened it. Inside, nestled on a bed of silk, was a single, polished fang. An ivory crescent, hung on a th

caught in

om the box. He leaned over me, his expression unreadabl

primal, terrified instinct took over. I flinc

ike this. It's forever, Theron. It has

I thought I knew vanished. The insecure wolf I made excuses for was gon

rd of ice. "If you will not accept my mark willingly, then I will wait for your Heat. I

journal lay open, a leather-bound book I'd never dared to touch. A single page was visible in th

PUNISH. CLAIM. MARK HER. BREED HER. MAK

nomous, beating heart. In the background, out of focus, I was frozen in the bed, and th