Long-press a paragraph to send danmaku
I'm standing in the center of the clearing and every wolf in Ironridge is staring at me.
The Blood Rite bonfire spits embers into the night sky. My hands won't stop shaking. I shove them behind my back and lock my knees so I don't bolt.
Cade's across from me. Twenty feet of dirt and smoke between us. His eyes haven't left me since I walked into the circle.
I shouldn't be here. I should've run last night. Crossed the border. Disappeared.
But my wolf woke up.
Six years I've been dead inside. No shift. No heat. Nothing. I thought maybe the trauma broke something permanent. I was fine with that. Made it easier to do what I came here to do.
Then he scented me and she clawed her way to the surface.
Now she's pacing under my skin, whining, begging me to go to him. It makes me want to puke again.
The pack forms a ring around us. I catch Damon at Cade's shoulder, arms crossed, face unreadable. He's been watching me all day. Showed up at the kitchen this morning while I was scrubbing counters and just stood there. Didn't say a word. Just watched.
He knows something's wrong.
"Sienna Vale." Cade's voice cuts through the murmur of the crowd. He's using my name. The fake one I gave them six years ago. "Step forward."
I don't move.
His jaw tightens. "Now."
My feet betray me. Three steps closer. The bond pulls like a fishhook in my chest.
"You smell like roses," he says. Low enough that maybe only I hear it. "How did I never notice?"
Because I've been dosing myself with wolfsbane and ash for six years. Burning out my scent. Burning out everything.
"I don't know," I lie.
His eyes narrow. He knows I'm lying. He just doesn't know what about.
Yet.
"The bond doesn't lie," he says. Louder now. For the pack. "She's mine."
Mine.
That word makes my wolf surge. I taste blood. Bit my tongue trying to keep her down.
I could reject him right now. Right here in front of everyone. It would hurt like hell. Might even kill one of us. But it would end this.
It would also tell him I know exactly what a fated mate bond is. That I'm not some broken low-rank omega who never shifted. That I've been lying about everything.
They'd ask questions. Damon would dig. And he'd find Thornwood in my bones.
So I stay quiet.
Cade moves closer. The crowd leans in. This is the part they came for. Blood Rite isn't just about the bond. It's about the claim. The mark. The whole pack watches the alpha take what's his.
I hate every single one of them.
"You ran last night," Cade says. He's right in front of me now. Close enough I can feel the heat coming off him. "Why?"
"I was scared."
That's not a lie. I am scared. Just not the way he thinks.
"Of me?"
"Of this."
His hand comes up. Slow. Gives me time to move. I don't. His fingers brush my jaw and my wolf keens.
She wants this. Wants him.
I want him dead.
"You tried to stab me," he murmurs. "And now you're my mate. Hell of a coincidence."
"I wasn't trying to stab you."
"No?" His thumb traces my bottom lip. The crowd's dead silent. "What were you doing in my room, Sienna?"
Think. Think.
"I wanted to see you." I drop my gaze. Play the part. The desperate low-rank who finally has a shot at something better. "I didn't think you'd ever notice me."
"I'm noticing now."
His other hand slides to the back of my neck. Grip firm. Possessive. My pulse hammers against his palm.
This is it. He's going to mark me.
If I let him do this, I'm tied to him. The bond will dig in deeper. My wolf will fight me every time I try to hurt him. And I need to hurt him. I need to destroy him.
But if I don't let him do this, I'm dead by morning.
So I tilt my head.
Expose my throat.
His breath hitches. I feel his wolf rise to meet mine. The bond snaps taut between us, pulling, demanding.
"Mine," he says again.
Then he bites.
Pain first. Sharp and bright. Then heat. It floods my veins like poison. Like fire. The bond locks into place and I feel him. His wolf. His want. His confusion. He doesn't understand why his mate smells like fear and fury under the roses.
I don't scream. Won't give them that.
When he pulls back there's blood on his mouth. My blood. The mark throbs on my neck. I can feel it already starting to scar. His claim. Permanent.
The pack howls. Approval. Celebration. Their alpha found his luna.
I'm going to kill every last one of them.
But first I'm going to make him love me.
That's the new plan. It comes together while his pack cheers and his hand stays locked on my neck. I can't just kill him anymore. That's too easy. Too quick.
I'm going to make Cade Blackthorn fall in love with me. I'm going to become the one thing he can't live without. And then I'm going to rip his heart out the way his father ripped out mine.
He wants a mate? Fine.
He's going to get one.
"You're shaking," Cade says. His voice is softer now. Almost gentle. The crowd's still roaring but he's only looking at me.
"It hurts."
"It'll fade." His thumb strokes the mark. Soothing. "I've got you."
Liar. He doesn't have me. He's got a ghost wearing a fake name. And she's going to haunt him until there's nothing left.
"Come on." He keeps one hand on me and turns to the pack. Raises his voice. "It's done. She's mine. Anyone touches her answers to me."
More howls. Someone starts drumming. The Rite's shifting into the celebration phase. Bonfire. Food. Alcohol. Hours of this.
Cade starts walking. Pulls me with him. We're heading toward the edge of the clearing, away from the noise. Damon falls into step behind us.
"Cade." Damon's voice is carefully neutral. "A word."
"Later."
"Now."
Cade stops. His hand tightens on me. "What."
Damon's stare locks on my neck. Not the mark. Lower. Where my shirt's collar slipped during the Rite.
No.
No no no.
I jerk my collar back up but it's too late. He saw it. The birthmark. Small. Thorn-shaped. Right above my collarbone.
Every Thornwood is born with it.
"That mark," Damon says slowly. His face is stone. "I've seen that before."
Cade frowns. "What are you talking about?"
"The thorn." Damon takes a step closer. His eyes are ice. "That's a bloodline mark. Old pack. Real old."
My heart stops.
"So?" Cade looks between us. Doesn't get it yet.
Damon's mouth thins. When he speaks, his voice could cut glass.
"So that mark belongs to a pack we slaughtered six years ago." His gaze pins me in place. "Isn't that right, Thornwood?"