Chapter 2
Mariah
He dragged me down the hall like I weighed nothing, his grip an iron band around my arm.
My bare feet skidded on the cold tile, the thin hospital gown hanging off my shoulders in tatters.
I should have fought, should have clawed at him until one of us bled out, but after what just happened in that corridor, I knew better.
This wasn’t a wolf I could beat in a fight.
He shoved open a reinforced door at the end of the hall, pulling me inside.
The room was stark and utilitarian with steel walls, a cot, a desk stacked with maps and weapons, and a makeshift kitchen along one wall.
The faint tang of whiskey lingered in the air.
In an instant, I realized it was his quarters.
He finally let me go, and I spun around, pressing my back against the door, ready to lash out if he came close again. My chest heaved, my pulse wild.
Then I saw him. Really saw him.
He was tall, towering, his broad shoulders filling the small space.
His chest was streaked with blood that wasn’t all mine.
He shifted and his muscles tensed, taut and corded with strength earned from years of command, but it was his face that held me captive.
Harsh angles cut from stone, a strong jaw shadowed with scruff, a faint scar splitting his left brow.
His hair was dark, tousled, and damp with sweat.
His eyes were a brilliant silver, so intelligent and merciless it felt like they could strip me down to the bone with a glance.
They should have been cold. They should have belonged to the monster everyone whispered about, but then I saw a flash of something flicker there—pain or maybe hunger—too fast for me to pin down.
I hated that I noticed any of it.
I hated that after everything, my pulse didn’t just race with fear.
It raced with desire.
For him.
The silence stretched too long, broken only by the sound of both our breathing. My chest heaved, my nails scraping against the steel wall behind me, and the taste of blood still coated my tongue. Was it his blood? My blood? I didn’t even know anymore.
“You’re a bastard,” I finally spat out.
His silver eyes narrowed, flashing in the dim light, but that didn’t stop me from releasing my verbal wrath on him.
“You marked me.” My voice crackled with fury, with disbelief, as I stood before him naked, bruised and bleeding. “You bit me like an animal, claimed me like some goddamn prize to hang around your neck. You—” my throat clenched, but I forced it out anyway, “—you fucking mated me.”
The word burned in my mouth, and my stomach twisted, fury and shame tangling until I thought I might tear myself open just to claw it out.
I pushed off the wall, glaring at him, every muscle trembling, but my voice was sharp enough to cut steel. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? Or is this just another day for you? Claim the girl, fuck her, and drag her back to your goddamn den?”
His jaw flexed, but he said nothing, and the silence only poured gasoline on my rage.
“I should rip your throat out,” I spat, my hands curling into fists. “I should make you bleed the way you made me bleed. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for you.”
I took a step closer, reckless, my heart pounding, the words hurtling past my lips faster than I could think. “What did you do to me? Tell me! Why the hell can I still feel you—” my voice caught in my dry throat, “—inside me?”
His nostrils flared, his chest rising, eyes locked on mine like they were burning me alive.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t roar back or snap his teeth the way the others would have.
Instead, he straightened, rolling his shoulders back until he seemed even bigger, his presence filling the entire room, like he could hold the ceiling up with those broad shoulders if it all came crashing down.
“Enough,” he ordered, his tone like iron wrapped in velvet. “I hear you.”
I hated the way it slid over my skin, deeply calm and commanding, but not cruel. My pulse pounded even harder, my body trembling with a fury I didn’t know where to aim.
He took one slow step toward me. Then another.
“Stay back,” I snapped, my nails biting into my palms, my body backing up to press tight against the steel door. “Don’t come closer.”
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said evenly, hands loose at his sides. He took another step. “You’ve been through hell. I can smell the drug on you. I can still see it burning in your veins.” His eyes softened. “That wasn’t you in the corridor.”
His calm made me want to scream. It was infuriating and I balled my fists at my sides and tried to control my rage.
“You don’t get to play savior,” I hissed. “You marked me. You forced me back there.” My throat clenched, heat pricking at my eyes, but I refused to blink. “And you think you can just… stand tall and step closer and explain it all away?”
He stopped a few paces short of me, the air between us vibrating with tension. His voice stayed steady, though, like each word was chosen to keep me from shattering into pieces right then and there.
“No,” he said simply. “I’m not going to explain it away. I’m not going to pretend you asked for this.” His gaze sharpened, locking me in place. “But I’ll tell you this: I didn’t do it to break you. I did it to keep you alive.”
I barked a bitter laugh. “Alive? You call this alive? Don’t act like you were doing me a favor. You tied me to you with an unbreakable chain. I know what the mark means to wolves.”
His eyes flickered, pain in the flash of silver, but when he spoke again, his voice was incredibly calm.
“Then hate me if you need to. Curse me. Fight me.” He took one final step, close enough that his heat pressed against me, his scent fogging my lungs like smoke.
“But you will live, Mariah. Because you’re mine now, claimed, marked, and mated.
And no one—no Council member, no soldier, no wolf—will ever take you from me. ”
I wanted to keep screaming. I wanted to claw his face open, spit blood in his silver eyes, and curse him until the walls shook.
But hate only carried me so far.
Because the memory of his mouth on my skin still burned like fire. Because my body still ached from the way he filled me, the way my orgasms had ripped through me no matter how hard I tried to fight them.
And the worst part?
I’d actually enjoyed it.
That truth slid under my skin like a blade, cutting through my rage until all that was left was a hollow confusion.
I swallowed hard, pressing my back against the steel door, staring up at him. He wasn’t snarling, wasn’t smirking like so many of the wolves I’d seen before. His eyes weren’t mocking. They were steady. Focused. Almost gentle.
That terrified me more than his claws ever could.
My voice came out smaller than I meant for it to, rough from the fight. “Who… who are you?”
For the first time since he dragged me into this room, his expression softened.
He leaned in slightly as his eyes caught mine in their gaze. “Varek Dain.”
The name hit me like a hammer to the chest.
I’d heard it before, whispered in the dark cells, traded like a rumor among the other girls.
Varek Dain, the commander. The ruthless one.
The soldier who never lost, who never flinched, who’d tear out a man’s throat without blinking.
The girls had said his name with fear, with awe, with the certainty that he was the worst of them.
And now he stood in front of me, his eyes burning silver fire, telling me I was his.
I sucked in an audible gasp, my heart thundering against my ribs.
“Varek Dain,” I whispered, almost choking on the words. “I’ve heard about you.”
“You’ve heard the worst of me, I’m sure,” he said, with something that almost sounded like disdain for his own reputation. “And some of it’s true. I’ve killed. I’ve led wolves into battles most wouldn’t walk out of. I’ve done things that keep me awake late at night.”
I clenched my fists. “Then they were right.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he took another slow step closer, his hands still loose at his sides, nothing threatening in his movements. “But I’m not the monster they want you to believe either.”
I wanted to laugh in his face, but my derision stuck in my throat. He’d just marked me. Fucked me. Claimed me. And now he wanted to play gentle?
Before I could spit the thought at him, he turned slightly and gestured to the far wall of the room, to a narrow counter that had been built from scavenged metal and old wood. On it were a hot plate and some dented cookware, a few chipped glasses and dishes, a couple of utensils, and canned goods.
He moved toward it with unhurried steps, and after a hesitation I briefly questioned myself for, I followed, wrapping the shreds of my skimpy hospital gown around me.
He poured water into a chipped glass and set it on the counter in front of me.
Then he went to his pack, rummaging through it until he found a long, dark button-up shirt, one of his and handed it to me without a word.
It smelled faintly of smoke and pine, was soft and a little bit worn at the edges.
After that, he reached for a small tin and pulled out strips of some kind of jerky, laying them beside the glass.
“Eat,” he said simply. “Drink. You need it.”
I stared at the offerings, then at him. My throat was raw with thirst, my stomach knotted with hunger, but my suspicion burned hotter. “Why?” I demanded. “Why pretend to care?”
His eyes softened, just barely. “You’re mine, Mariah, and that means you won’t starve in my presence. I take care of what’s mine.”
The sound of my name on his lips made my skin prickle. I hated how right it felt, how gentle he sounded compared to every other wolf I’d ever met.
I looked down at the water. My hand trembled as I reached for it, but I didn’t let him see. The first sip almost burned my throat, cool and sweet, and only then did I realize how dry my mouth had been.