Page 34 of Fated to the Feral Wolf

There was nothing but pain and sadness left where my heart used to be, even as something odd thrummed beneath the surface. Not even my favorite instrumental playlist, still running from the night before, could put a dent in my melancholy.

Dirge was still there, his wolf form burrowed into my side as if he too felt hollow without that contact. My fingers wove into his fur, and his eyes blinked open. Canine sorrow was clear in them, and I held on to him a little too tightly as the odd thrumming turned into a vicious burn.

A gasp froze in my throat, my eyes going wide with terror as the searing centered itself on my chest, over my heart, between my breasts.

“Ahh!” The cry finally escaped, and I arched into the bed, Dirge’s howl twining with my pained scream in a morbid song.

“Shay? Shay!” Brielle was at the door, pounding against the wood.

“What’s happening?” Reed’s question was next.

“I don’t know. Something’s wrong. Get me in there. Now!” Brielle barked the order with alpha power, and then the splintering crack of wood followed by theboomof the door falling to the ground was all I could hear.

I clutched my chest, mouth stuck in a frozenoof pain as Reed lunged through the door, Kane and Gael coming more slowly behind, blocking my friends from any danger.

When it dawned on the men that it was just me and Dirge writhing in pain on the bed, they allowed my friends to pass.

“What is this? What’s wrong with her?” Leigh’s voice was desperate as she watched Brielle check my pulse, tug at my hands.

But the searing heat was starting to leave, numbness filling in behind it. My hands collapsed to my sides as I sucked in great, cooling lungfuls of air. What was wrong with me?

Brielle clawed the neck of my sleep tank down, her eyes going wide as she bit her bottom lip between her teeth and shot a worried look at Leigh.

“What is it, love?” Kane was at her side, a possessive arm around her waist now that she’d stopped checking me.

“I think… I think it’s her mating marks. But…”

The words filtered through my numbness, something clicking inside me.

Mating marks.

Oh, Goddess.

I bolted upright and brushed past Leigh, tearing into the bathroom. The light blinked once and then stayed on, the heavy square mirror showing my disheveled hair and wild gray eyes. But I didn’t care about any of that. I peeled off the shirt, not caring in the least about stripping down with people right outside.

My breath caught in my chest at the sight.

I’d seen my bare chest a thousand times. No surprises there since puberty, really. Until today. Painted over my skin were the most gorgeous marks, thick green swirling lines so smooth, no tattoo could hope to replicate them. They started at my left collar bone, swooping down over my left breast, teasing the edges of my areola and scrolling across to my sternum, but the magical ink began to fade there, as if it ran out of steam halfway with the pattern still unfinished.

My mate marks were beautiful, and I couldn’t help but trace them with my fingertips, a sob breaking from my lips as I reached the midpoint over my sternum, where they petered out to bare skin. The truth was clear, written right on my skin.

The marks were incomplete, and they always would be. My mate wasn’t human. And without him changing back, his marks couldn’t take hold. The magic was unfinished, stretched painfully between us to the breaking point.

I could feel him, though, in my chest. Closing my eyes, I searched for that tenuous connection to Dirge. He was a warm ember, glowing and alive, that replaced the numbness I had woken with.

A whine came at the door, followed by the sharp scratch of wolf claws. Despite myself, I smiled a little at his insistence. I stepped behind the door to open it, letting him in without flashing my boobs to the three males hovering anxiously in my room. Not that they would likely care, but the first person to see my marks should definitely be Dirge.

He padded in on quiet paws, and I shut the door behind him.

A tortured whine slipped from his lips, and he rubbed hard against the front of my thighs before turning around to get a good look at me.

I sank down to sit on the bathroom floor so he could seethem at eye level. They were there for him, and he should have matching ones for me.

But I would never know, never get to see his marks or run my fingertips over them.

Rage and sorrow were a knot tangled up inside my chest. Dirge stared, taking in each graceful line. And then he threw back his head and howled, the sound sending goose bumps rippling over my skin. It was heavy-laden with emotion: sorrow and joy, pain and pleasure. It was all wrapped together like barbed wire.

What should only be joy was tainted, broken.

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