Page 6 of Marked
Iver is all tanned skin and solid muscle, his large body sculpted to absolute perfection. I sink my teeth into my lower lip as my gaze rakes up the ladder of his defined abs and sweeps across his broad chest. He’s got a tattoo over his left pec– surprising, given his otherwise clean-cut appearance– and another that covers his right bicep, the black ink dancing on his golden skin as he moves to drop his pants.
I suck in a breath as I avert my gaze, trying and failing to ignore the way my pulse is suddenly fluttering erratically, something strange and uncomfortable twisting in my lower belly. I focus on a single blade of grass at my feet, my eyes glazing over. I ball my hands into fists at my sides. Exhale slowly.
A low howl cuts through the air and I jerk my head up just in time to see a beautiful tricolor wolf running toward the edge of the forest. My heart skips another beat.Shit, his animal form is just as beautiful as his human one.
More people start shifting to their wolf forms, the ranked members of Iver’s pack following him into the woods, then the ranked members of my own. Pretty soon, everyone is tossing their clothes off and shifting, howling with delight and taking off for the trees.
My skin tingles as my inner animal presses forward, eager to join in. I grit my teeth against the urge, waiting until everyone else is gone and the coast is clear before finally stripping off my own clothes and gathering them into a neat little pile. Then I slip into my wolf’s skin and bolt for the treeline, beyond ready to shut off my brain for a while and justrun.
CHAPTER THREE
the fated bond
IVER
Not many things in life are constant, but the moon’s cycle is. For one glorious night each month, it shines bright and full in the sky overhead, calling out to my inner wolf like a siren’s song and compelling me to take to the forest and run beneath it.
Shifters have an instinctual response to lunar energy; something interwoven in our DNA on a cellular level. Our inner wolves are closest to the surface when the moon’s full, and when we let them out, they’re stronger, faster, more agile. The moon calls, and we answer.
I’ve been Alpha of my pack for two years now, and I can definitively say that the monthly ritual of leading the full moon run is my favorite part of the gig, hands down. We’re already a close-knit bunch, but coming together for the run strengthens our bond even more. It fosters an innate sense of unity and belonging. When I’m out running with my pack, I can feel their combined energy pulsing through my own veins, and I thrive off the thrill of it. It’s the world’s greatest high.
Something’s different about tonight’s run. I can feel it in the air; taste it in every breath I drag into my lungs as I sprint through the forest, paws pounding against the earth like a heavy drum beat. It’s not just that our borders are tighter thannormal for increased safety or that another pack has joined in with my own. As the light of the full moon filters down through the canopy of leaves overhead, I feel a distinct shift in the atmosphere; an urgent pull calling out to me.
My paws slide against the dirt as I pivot at the marker for the border that’s been set for this run– a safety precaution against the hunters that have been venturing too close for comfort as of late. I hate the restrictive feeling of these tight borders. We shouldn’t be penned in like this, we should be running wild and free… but my own sentiments on the issue don’t matter much when I’ve got a pack to protect. The security squad decided that this was the safest way to approach the full moon run, and the safety of my pack will always be my top priority.
The wind shifts as I turn to head west and a distinctive scent registers. It hits me like a freight train, punching the air from my lungs as it slams into me and ignites my senses. Suddenly, every nerve ending is alight, every instinct is pulling me in a singular direction. I’m not sure where, or to what, but I’m powerless to resist the urge to follow it, that scent taking hold of me and drowning out all rational thought.
The moon calls to me from overhead as the scent beckons me, growing stronger by the second. My legs pump vigorously, muscles burning as I push myself to sprint faster. Whatever that scent is, Ineedit. It’smine.
The wind shifts again. I skid to a stop, twisting around in a circle as I throw my head back and frantically inhale, trying to pinpoint which direction to go. The scent is now overwhelming; building all around me like a crescendo. Then it crashes.
Icrash.
Someone crashesinto me.
I’m knocked off my feet as another wolf tackles mine, the force of it knocking the wind out of me and sending both of us rolling across the ground. We twist together at first, thenuntangle as we land, both of us righting ourselves and snapping our heads up to stare into one another’s eyes. My wolf pulls back, and suddenly I’m shifting, bones snapping and rearranging as I retake my human form.
So does she. Amber eyes blink back at me, framed by thick, dark lashes. Full lips purse in startled surprise. The bond between us snaps into place, fate smiling down upon us as our souls recognize their other half.
It’s no wonder that I couldn’t get this girl off my mind, because Cheyenne Clark is mymate.
A surge of adrenaline shoots through my limbs as we both rise to stand, punctuated by an indescribable feeling of euphoria as the reality of what’s happening begins to sink in.
“M-mate,” Chey stutters breathlessly, still blinking at me in stunned disbelief.
“Mate,” I growl back, a surge of possessiveness spearing through me as I utter the word. “Mine.”
I advance a step in her direction and she flinches like a skittish animal, taking one of her own backwards as she lifts a hand, her mouth dropping open.
“I… what….” she stammers, her voice wavering.
I stop in my tracks, giving her space to come to grips with our new reality. I somehow sense she needs it. I also sense that she’s confused and a little frightened. It’s like I’m suddenly channeling her emotions through our bond; a raw, untethered energy flowing freely between us.
“Chey, you’re my fated mate,” I state with absolute certainty, still awestruck and astonished. Every full moon presents a chance of finding one’s fated mate, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less startling when it actually happens. It’s both everything and nothing like I expected it would be.
It’s so much better.
A celebratory howl cuts through the air; a jarring reminder that the two of us aren’t alone out here. Tighter borders means close quarters, and someone in my pack just heard me make that declaration. More howls rise up all around us as word spreads through the pack like wildfire, Cheyenne’s amber eyes popping wide as her head darts back and forth.
