Page 5 of Marked
“We should probably get going,” he urges, pushing off from the doorframe and beckoning me with a flick of his head. “Iver said people usually start arriving at his packhouse around seven, and I wanna be there before the rest of our pack shows up.”
I take another swig from the bottle, wiping my mouth off on a wrist as I swallow it down. “What about Lo?”
“She’s already over there,” he replies as he stoops to pick up my shoe from the ground, tossing it onto the bed to join the other one. “Said her family always gets together before the run.”
“Surprised you passed up family bonding time,” I snort.
“Would you have come tonight if I didn’t drag you?” he asks, arching a dark brow at me.
I stare back at him blankly.
“Exactly,” he deadpans. “Put your shoes on, let’s go.”
Taking one last sip from the bottle, I re-cap it and set it on top of my dresser with a soft clink, then move over to the bed and sink down on the edge. I can feel the weight of Javi’s stare on me as I drop my sneakers to the floor and slip my feet into them, turning to meet it as I push up to stand.
“What?” I ask.
The corner of his mouth ticks up. “What if he asks you out again tonight?”
“It’ll still be a no,” I reply flatly, stepping over to check my reflection in the full-length mirror beside the door.
“C’mon, Chey, just give the guy a chance,” Javi urges as I smooth the wrinkles out of my t-shirt. “What have you got to lose? I mean, Iver seems like a catch.”
“Still a no,” I sing-song as I pluck my sunglasses off my head and comb my fingers through my blonde waves.
“He’s good looking, right?” Javi presses. “And he’s definitely from a good family.”
I roll my eyes, leaning toward the mirror and rubbing at the dark circles beneath them.
“And from what I’ve seen so far, he’s a nice guy,” he continues. “And he’s well respected around here, he’s his pack’s Alpha…”
I shoot him a sideways glance, lips turning down in a frown. “None of that changes my mind. If anything, the fact that he’s an Alpha makes it an even firmer no.”
Javi’s eyes widen a fraction, then he dips his chin in an understanding nod, pressing his lips together in a tight line to signal that he’s finished pushing the issue. He knows he’s the only Alpha wolf I trust. He’s the only person I trust in this world,period.
I check my reflection in the mirror one last time, running through the same motions I always do before going anywhere. I sweep my hair in front of my shoulders. Tug down my left sleeve. Adjust my chunky cuff bracelet on my left wrist that I always, always wear.
It’s better to cover up so people don’t ask questions. I don’t want them to stare, or for me to have to explain to a bunch of strangers why I’m damaged goods.
Too bad the superficial damage on the outside is nothing compared to the damage within.
Ican’t remember the last time I was around this many people all at once. The Westfield packhouse is enormous, but it feels like there’s barely any air in here with the sheer size of the crowd that’s gathered inside. The ostensible lack of oxygen is making me dizzy.
So far, I’ve managed to avoid talking to people for the most part. I’ve just been hanging out on the fringes, watching Javi eat up the attention he and Lo are getting from her former pack and dodging Lo’s persistent brother. Each time Iver spots me through the crowd, he makes a beeline in my direction, and Ipromptly disappear amongst the mass of people before he can engage.
At this particular moment, though, it’s hard to avoid looking his way since he’s standing in front of the room commanding the attention of everyone in it. He’s fulfilling his Alpha duties by making pre-run announcements to his pack, but even though I’m not part of said pack, his eyes keep coming back to me. They keep locking with my own, lingering there before skipping over the crowd again.
It’s not that I’m not attracted to Iver Anderson. To the contrary, I’m not sure I’ve ever beenmorephysically attracted to someone in my entire life. The man looks like an Abercrombie model with his blonde hair, blue eyes, and tall, muscular build. If I had a type, he’d beit.
Still doesn’t mean I can go out with him.
Despite the fact that he’s already seen my mark and doesn’t seem deterred by it, I know how the world works. No man wants to date a woman who’s already been marked. Sleep with her, maybe, but I have no interest in that, either. I’m a freak among shifters who recoils from the slightest physical contact. This mark, and the way I got it, has made me defective.
Iver may think he wants me, but he doesn’t. Not really.
“Let’s go run!” he booms, clapping his hands together eagerly to the chorus of howls that follows. The commanding tone of his voice rattles all the way down to my bones, and I try not to panic as I fall in with the crowd as they make for the back doors of the packhouse, tucking in my shoulders to try to avoid touching anyone else.
Once I’m out on the back lawn, I’m able to draw a deep breath and reclaim my space, moving to the periphery of the crowd while Iver advances ahead toward the treeline. He rucks his shirt off over his head, andgood godsince when are menbuilt likethat?!My eyes pop wide, heart stuttering in my chest. I can’t look away.
