Page 1 of Marked
CHAPTER ONE
the brush-off
IVER
Inever believed in love at first sight until it happened to me.
Well, maybeloveis too strong a word, but it was instant attraction, for sure. Attraction more intense than I’ve ever felt; so strong that it punched the air from my lungs and made the world around me grind to a halt for a single, heart-stopping moment.
I’ve experienced the feeling exactly three times. The first was from across a parking lot last week. The second was from across the practice field at the squad complex during training today. And the third isright now,from across the bar my friends and I frequent in Goldenleaf’s territory.
All three times, it’s been the same girl. Cheyenne Clark is new around here, and now she’shere, headed right for the table in the back corner that my friends and I are currently occupying.
I sit up a little straighter on my barstool, gaze transfixed on the stunning she-wolf as she draws closer. Dark denim hugs her long legs, a loose maroon t-shirt concealing her slender frame beneath. There’s white lettering across the front of it, the soft waves of her long golden-blonde hair obscuring the logo so I can’t make out what it says. Not that it matters, since I only give her attire a passing glance before those amber eyes of hers pullme in, meeting mine for the briefest moment before flickering away.
She didn’t come here alone. The reason she’s headed toward our table right now is the man walking beside her– my sister’s new mate, Javier Cruz. From what I’ve gleaned in the short time Cheyenne has been on my radar, the two of them are close. I wasn’t aware he was bringing her along tonight, but I’m pleasantly surprised because it means I’m about to get the opportunity to actuallytalkto her rather than just staring from afar.
“Hey, guys,” Javi greets as the two of them approach our table, tossing an arm over her shoulders casually. “This is my best friend, Cheyenne. Chey, these are the guys.” He gestures to me and my buddies, making introductions from left to right. “Archer and Ares are from the Stillwater pack, they’re Alpha Reid’s sons,” he provides.
Her amber-eyed gaze bounces between the Raines brothers and she dips her head with a tight smile. “Nice to meet you.”
Ares perks up at the attention, grinning back at her. “Likewise,” he drawls, giving her a slow, predatory once-over.
My jaw tightens, hands clenching into fists atop the table. Not that Ares is any competition, but I saw her first.Dibs.
“And that’s Madd, the Goldenleaf pack’s Alpha,” Javi continues, pointing him out.
Madd grunts his acknowledgment as he wraps a tattooed hand around his beer bottle, tipping it in her direction as he lifts it to his lips.
“And Tristan, Alpha of the Riverton pack,” Javi provides, moving right along.
“Hey,” Tris greets warmly, flashing her a smile.
Cheyenne lifts a hand and waves as Javi finally turns to me.
“And this is…”
“Iver,” I interject with a suave lift of my chin. “Lo’s brother.”
Her gaze slides over to lock with mine. “Which makes you Alpha of the Westfield pack,” she surmises.
“That’s right,” I reply proudly.
She gives me a curt nod, then her eyes leave mine to glance around the table once more. “Pleasure meeting you all,” she murmurs, shifting her weight uncomfortably as she turns to Javi and arches a brow. “Drinks?”
“There’s a server that comes around,” he replies, beckoning her with a wave as he rounds the table to claim a stool near mine.
It must be my lucky day, because as Javi sits down, he motions to the empty seat between us for Cheyenne to take. My pulse picks up speed as she makes her way over, sliding onto the stool and resting her tan forearms against the lacquered tabletop.
“So, are the girls on their way?” she asks casually.
“I’d assume so,” Ares replies, beating me to the punch.
I’d be annoyed if I wasn’t so distracted by Cheyenne’s proximity right now. From up close, those amber eyes are even more striking, and there’s the faintest dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose that lend to the demure, girl-next-door vibe she puts off. She also smells fuckingdelicious, to the point where I’m practically hyperventilating as I try to drag more and more of that decadent scent into my lungs.
“Whatcha drinkin’?” Kelly asks cheerfully, startling me out of my hot-girl-haze as she approaches the table and slings cardboard coasters down in front of the newcomers.
Cheyenne turns to address the waitress, putting her back to me. “Vodka cranberry. Make it a double.”
