The Mark Beneath Her Skin

The man hadn’t moved all night.

He lay still beneath the fur throws on Rhea’s cot, his breaths shallow, but steady, as the fire cracked beside him. Outside, the storm raged on—snow pelting the windows like tapping fingers, wind howling like it carried ghosts between the trees.

Rhea hadn’t slept.

She kept to her chair across the room, cloak pulled tight around her shoulders, a dagger nestled beneath her hand. She had no idea what he was—or how he had survived wounds that should’ve killed him—but something in her bones whispered that this wasn’t a man who could be trusted.

At least, not by the rules of ordinary men.

At dawn, she moved to change the compress on his head. His body was burning—fevered, sweating despite the cold—but his wounds were... fading. Already, claw marks that had been raw and bloody the night before had closed into faint scars.

And the mark on his shoulder... had changed.

The three crescent-shaped claw marks were no longer red, but black—veined through with silver, like cracks in stone that glowed with moonlight. The lines branched out from the scar, threading along his collarbone like a living tattoo.

"What the hell are you..." Rhea murmured, reaching out to touch it.

Her fingers barely grazed his skin before his hand snapped up—fast as a whip—and caught her wrist.

“Don’t,” he growled, voice thick with something wild. “Don’t touch me.”

His grip wasn’t crushing, but it was strong. Inhuman. She froze, staring into eyes now wide open and glowing like molten silver.

“You’re awake,” she whispered.

He slowly released her hand and sat up, fur sliding down from his bare torso. The way he moved—controlled, deliberate—reminded her of a predator preparing to pounce.

“Where am I?”

“My cottage,” Rhea said, stepping back. “About three miles from the Crescent Valley border. You were bleeding to death in the woods. I dragged you here.”

He blinked, processing. Then his jaw tensed. “You should’ve left me.”

Rhea scoffed. “You’re welcome.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, low. “I’m dangerous.”

“Clearly,” she said, arms crossed. “But you’re also injured and half-naked, so maybe don’t posture like you’re about to kill me.”

His gaze lingered on her a moment too long. “I didn’t kill you. That should worry both of us.”

Rhea’s stomach twisted. She hated the way his words thrilled her.

“I need to know what you are,” she demanded.

The man was quiet for a long time. The fire popped between them.

Finally, he spoke. “Kael.”

“Kael what?”

He tilted his head. “Just Kael. And I’m the thing they whisper about when the wind howls at night. The one they pray doesn’t come through the trees.”

Rhea narrowed her eyes. “You’re a werewolf.”

His smile was grim. “Not exactly.”

Then his gaze flicked to her neck—and he froze.

“What?”

He stood up slowly, ignoring her question, and stepped toward her. For a moment, Rhea stiffened, her hand brushing the dagger on the table. But Kael didn’t attack. He stopped just inches away, eyes locked on the hollow of her throat.

“You’ve been marked,” he said softly.

Rhea’s heart skipped. “What do you mean?”

He raised a hand, slowly, and pointed to the base of her collarbone. She reached up—and felt it. A tiny crescent-shaped ridge beneath her skin. Faint. Cool. And new.

“That wasn’t there yesterday,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“No. It wouldn’t have been.”

“What does it mean?”

Kael’s jaw clenched. “It means the moon sees you now. And that mark… it’s a claim. A warning.”

“A warning to who?”

“To every wolf in Velaris.”

Rhea backed away, confused and suddenly cold. Her skin prickled like it wasn’t entirely hers anymore. The room was spinning slightly, heat rising behind her eyes. And then—without warning—a sharp ache bloomed deep in her stomach. Not pain. Not hunger. Something else.

She gasped, doubling over, clutching the table for balance.

Kael moved toward her, voice suddenly raw. “Your body’s reacting. The mark’s triggering the bond.”

“Bond?”

“Shit,” he muttered, backing away. “I can’t stay here.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you explain—what the hell is happening to me?”

But Kael was already at the door, muscles tense.

“I haven’t touched you,” he said. “But something’s been set in motion. And if I stay... I won’t be able to control it.”

“Then go!” she shouted, her eyes stinging. “I’ll figure it out without you.”

He hesitated for a beat—looking at her like he wanted to say something else—but then turned and disappeared into the snowstorm.

Rhea stood trembling, skin burning, every inch of her body humming like lightning trapped beneath her skin.

And somewhere deep in the forest... a howl echoed.

Her veins lit up like fire.