It’s dark.
Not the kind of darkness that frightens—it’s more like a heavy, endless fog. I float in it, weightless, numb. Somewhere deep in my chest, there’s a dull ache—a reminder of the blade that tore through my heart. I should be dead. I felt myself slipping away.
But… I’m still here.
And I don’t understand why.
My body won’t move. My lips won’t part. Every time I try to scream, to beg, to speak–nothing comes out. It’s as if something invisible is wrapped around my throat, holding me in place. I’m a prisoner inside my own body.
But I can hear.
That’s how I know I’m not dead.
Voices–soft at first, then growing louder. Familiar.
Jack.
He’s been here the whole time. I’d know his voice anywhere, even when it cracks with exhaustion or shakes with rage. His warmth lingers near me like a second skin–wrapping me in something stronger than any pain. Keeping me tethered.
He’s protecting me. Still.
Then… there’s another presence. One that stirs something ancient in my blood. It’s calmer, heavier–familiar in a way I can’t quite explain. Like spring rain falling on pine trees. Like a forgotten lullaby. He doesn’t speak often, but when he does, my soul listens.
Then Jack’s voice cuts through everything–angry, raw, frantic.
“Why isn’t she waking up yet?!”
I want to reach out, tell him I’m trying. That
to
open my eyes. That I’m fighting.
“She should’ve woken up already,” the other man says–probably the doctor. “Even the King gave her his blood. I–I don’t understand-”
Jack growls, and I can feel the frustration pouring off him int waves
“There is one thing, Alpha…”
A pause.
“Maybe you should mark her.”
My body tenses–or maybe I imagine it tensing. Rage flares through Jack’s voice.
“How dare you tell me to mark her against her will?”
Gods. My heart clenches. Even when I’m half–dead, he’s still defending me.
“I’m only saying it because the mate bond might help–if she accepts it-”
You think I’d ever do to her what he did to my sister?!”
No. He wouldn’t. I know that. Jack would never hurt me like that.
And now I know what I have to do.
I force the air into my lungs, feeling my throat strain–raw, broken
1/3
“Mark me…” I whisper. It’s a rasp, barely a sound, like wind through leaves.
The silence afterwards makes me fear he didn’t hear me.
But then I hear him move.
He turns.
“…Please, Jack…” I whisper again, begging. “I want to… bear your mark…”
Seconds pass.
Then his voice comes low, trembling and full of emotion. “Your wish is my command.”
A second later, something sharp–hot–sinks into the side of my neck.
I hiss, pain exploding through every nerve like fire. For one wild heartbeat, it feels as thought I’m being stabbed all over again- but then-
Then the pain melts and becomes something else entirely.
Pleasure
A fierce warmth erupts within me, radiating from the bite mark across my chest, down my spine, and lower–between my legs. Liquid fire courses through my veins, igniting every inch of me. My skin tingles, each nerve alive and pulsing, like I’m glowing from the inside out. My legs twitch. My lips part. My chest rises sharply, as if I’ve just resurfaced after drowning and taken my
first true breath.
I feel everything.
I feel Jack–his presence pressing against me, curling over my skin and sinking deeper, like a thread sewn straight into my
bones. His scent surrounds me–dark, smoky, maddeningly addictive.
In my mind, I see his hands—rough and calloused–gliding up my waist, across my stomach, and cupping my breasts with a mix of reverence and hunger. A helpless whimper slips from my lips, lost in the overwhelming sensation. I feel his mouth on my throat, his tongue teasing the mark he just made. My body writhes against the sheets, seeking him, aching for more, as heat builds low in my belly.
Instinct takes over. I arch toward him, craving more of his touch. His breath is hot and ragged against my skin, his grip possessive–holding me as if I’m the most fragile, precious thing in his world.
