9. The Bite Mark
THE BITE MARK
I touched my neck and saw a smidge of blood on my finger. The fucker bit me so hard that my skin was broken! What was he, a vampire or something?
I kicked Damien off me. He fell back into the water with a startled yelp, obviously not anticipating my sudden change of attitude.
“What the fuck!” He gawked at me after steadying himself.
I pointed at my neck, saying, “You actually marked me! You asshole!”
I intentionally ignored the fact that, in the heat of passion, I had ... invited him to do that. All I could think of now was how that moment was going to ruin my life.
Only then did Damien realize what we had done, and guilt crept into his countenance.
Both of us knew the risk of it: No alpha should bear a bite mark of another alpha, be it a temporary one or a mating mark, since it was a telltale sign of submitting to another alpha.
If anyone saw it, I was basically fucked.
I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the panic.
This was not the end of the world, yet. I hadn’t heard that an alpha could leave a mating mark on another alpha, so this was likely just a temporary mark and would fade within a day. All I needed to do was hide it and make sure no one saw it until it disappeared.
A mating mark would be an entirely different story.
It would only happen when an alpha claims an omega or beta as their mate, or in some more “old-fashioned” clans, as their possession.
The alpha injects his own scent into the receiver, and not only would the mark not fade, but it would also bind the omega or beta to the alpha.
The bearer of the mark would carry a light note of the alpha’s scent, and anyone would know to whom the omega or beta belonged.
Moreover, the marked ones would constantly need to stay close to their alpha at the beginning, since depriving them of their scent would lead to various unpleasant physical and psychological symptoms. They even had a name for the highly stigmatized illness caused by insufficient exposure to alpha scent: Lovelorn disease.
Whoever is diagnosed with it is seen as rejected and abandoned by their alpha mate and is deemed to be damaged and undesirable.
If it were a temporary mark, my scent shouldn’t be altered. I could still continue my life as though this had never happened. But if it were a mating mark ...
No ... It wouldn’t be possible. I refused to consider that possibility.
I peevishly and vigorously washed the bite mark and my body, trying to scrub his scent off me, but for some reason, it lingered.
He tried to help but wisely stepped back under my murderous glare.
I gave up after a while, climbing out of the pool and grabbing a robe from a daybed to wrap around myself. I couldn’t believe I was tempted by that secret fantasy I had been having since I was a teenager, and actually followed it through, and with Damien, of all people! What was I even thinking!
“Hey, listen.” His soft voice came from behind me, and his hand gently rested on my arm. But I slapped his hand away.
“Don’t touch me!” I hissed before storming out of the room.
I found my clothes in the changing room, already ironed and warmed. I quickly put them on and wrapped the cloak tightly around myself, pulling the hood lower to cover my face before I sulked out of the bathhouse.
It was the hour of sunrise, and most of the werewolves were too exhausted from the Full Moon Hunt to stay awake. I managed to evade most people and made my way to the stable. There, I found a horse that likely belonged to a random nobleman.
I rode it all the way back to the palace and rushed into my room, locking all the doors, including the one to Leif’s room. Leif and the other omegas should have been escorted back a while ago; I didn’t want him to enter the room and smell Damien all over me.
I threw my cloak and tunic on the floor and stood before the full-length mirror to check my neck.
The teeth marks were angrily red, with four punctured spots from canine teeth still oozing blood. Did the fucker try to tear my neck open?! Was he also this rough with omegas?
A stream of obscene curse words flew out of my mouth, and when that didn’t alleviate the anger and anxiety boiling in me, I punched the mirror, shattering it completely.
“Fenris?” Leif knocked on the door. “Is everything okay?”
My heart lurched into my throat, but I managed to reply in a calm voice. “Yes, I’m fine. Knocked over a vase.”
The doorknob rattled. He was probably trying to come in and check on me. “Why are you locking the door?”
“I’m changing.”
“Alright, I’m going back to bed. See you at lunch.”
He sounded sleepy, probably had just been woken up by the shattering sound. I exhaled and slumped into the couch; I still couldn’t believe what I had done ...
I was supposed to marry off Leif to Damien, and yet ...
What the fuck was wrong with me? How could I risk everything for such a stupid fling! I mean, it wasn’t like I was in love with Damien; I couldn’t even stand him!
In the meantime, I couldn’t stop myself from recalling every minute detail of what had transpired in the bathhouse, of being held down, being entered, being filled, being dominated and conquered.
His hands touched me with such force and possessiveness, as though I was his, and he had the right to do anything to me, and I would let him.
His scent still enveloped me like a black velvet mantle, and I was safe in it.
I let out a frustrated groan when I noticed my shaft was half-hard again just from the memory ... I must be a very, very sick alpha, to have wanted that ...
I threw myself on the bed and pulled the cover over my head. I would sleep it off, then pretend those two hours in the bathhouse had never happened, and no one would know anything about it. I would forget all about it, and life could finally return to normal.