The pronouncement hung heavy in the dimly lit room, each syllable a chilling promise. "I'll kill you at the perfect time. But for now… I shall Mark you."
Selene's breath hitched. Mark her? The word echoed the ancient laws, the unbreakable bond of the Lycan. But the chilling context, the threat of eventual death hanging over it, twisted the very meaning into something terrifyingly perverse.
Zephyr's gaze dropped to her neck, a possessive gleam flickering in his bloodshot eyes. The air around them thrummed with a raw, untamed energy that both terrified and, inexplicably, drew her in. His nearness was a suffocating weight, yet a strange comfort persisted beneath the fear.
"No," she whispered, the denial weak and trembling. Her mind raced, desperately seeking a way out, a loophole in this horrifying pronouncement. But his grip remained firm, his body a solid wall against hers.
