Chapter Two: The Crescent Mark
POV: Aria (Selene Reborn)
The mirror hated me.
Or maybe I hated the reflection staring back.
The chamber was dim, lit only by the blue flicker of rune candles, their light dancing across the stone walls like restless ghosts. I stood before the vanity naked, cold, wet from the bath they forced me to take, steam still curling around my ankles. A silk robe hung nearby, untouched.
I couldn't stop staring at the mark.
A crescent moon, luminous and perfect, pressed into the skin just beneath my collarbone right above my heart. It pulsed faintly with silver light, almost as if it breathed with me.
Selene had borne the same mark. A sacred sign given by the Moon Goddess herself, signifying divine power, celestial ancestry, and fate beyond flesh.
And now… it was back.
I dragged my fingers along the curve of it. My skin tingled. Power whispered beneath it hot, slow, and ancient. It thrummed through my veins like a lover's voice calling me from somewhere far away.
A knock.
I froze.
Then the door creaked open, and the scent of him poured into the room before his body did.
Cedar, smoke, musk. Sin incarnate.
Lucian Draven.
He leaned against the doorframe like a wolf admiring its prey arms crossed, shirt unbuttoned halfway to reveal the chiseled slabs of his chest. His eyes those blood-red, soul-splitting eyes trailed over my bare skin, lingering on the curve of my breasts, the slope of my hip, and the mark.
The mark.
He said nothing at first. Just stared.
"You're not shy," I murmured, turning slightly. I didn't cover myself. Not with him.
"Why would I be?" he said. "You're standing there like temptation sculpted by the gods. Is this your idea of rebellion?"
"No. Just comfort."
His lips curved dark, slow. "You'll find I punish comfort, rogue."
My nipples hardened beneath his gaze, betraying me.
"Then punish me," I whispered, stepping forward. "Let's see how deep your bite goes."
The air cracked with tension.
But instead of pouncing, he stepped forward slowly, almost reverently. His hand lifted. I didn't flinch as his knuckles grazed the crescent on my chest.
"You healed fast," he said.
"I always do."
"I'm sure you do." His thumb dragged across my skin. "But this… this wasn't here before."
The room held its breath.
"What is it?" he asked. But it wasn't a real question. He already knew.
"I don't know," I lied again, lips parting as he leaned closer. His breath fanned against my neck.
"You lie like it's in your blood."
"It is."
He chuckled, low and rough. "I should chain you for that."
"I might like it."
His eyes darkened instantly.
In a blink, he was behind me, his hand fisting my hair and tugging my head back. My pulse thundered in my throat. He ran his nose down the side of my neck, inhaling like a starved beast.
"You're heat, Aria," he growled. "Even your lies taste sweet."
"You've tasted them?"
"Not yet. But I will."
Then his lips closed around the mark.
I gasped.
It was electric pleasure laced with pain, like lightning across my bones. My knees buckled. His free hand gripped my waist, pinning me against his chest. The heat between my legs pulsed like a second heartbeat.
"Your body reacts," he whispered. "Even if your mouth doesn't speak truth."
"Don't confuse lust with loyalty," I snapped.
His grip tightened. "I don't want your loyalty."
"Then what do you want, Alpha?"
He turned me around and pressed me against the wall with his hips, trapping me with muscle and intent. His fingers slipped between my thighs, parting me without shame. I hissed at the sudden contact.
His voice brushed my ear like velvet over steel. "I want submission."
I moaned as his thumb found my clit, circling slowly teasing. "Then earn it."
He growled a sound that vibrated down my spine.
And then he stopped.
His touch vanished, his body pulled away.
"You're injured," he said abruptly.
I blinked in confusion. "What?"
"You've been bleeding," he gestured down.
I looked there was a smear of red between my thighs. Not from him. Not from lust.
It was old.
Residual from the battle that brought me here, when I was found collapsed at the border.
"I'm healing," I said.
"You're not healed."
Before I could stop him, he scooped me into his arms. I gasped as the robe fluttered uselessly from the edge of the bed. I was naked, exposed, in the arms of the enemy Alpha, and yet his touch was gentle.
This time.
He laid me on the bed like I was something sacred. Then walked to a shelf, retrieved a small stone bowl, and dipped his fingers into glowing blue salve that smelled of wild roses and ash.
"What is that?" I asked.
"Spiritroot. Rare. Painful. Effective."
I tensed as he approached.
He set the bowl beside me. "Spread your legs."
"Excuse me?"
"I said" his voice turned gravel, "spread. Your. Legs."
Our eyes locked. I didn't move.
Then, slowly, defiantly, I parted my thighs, baring myself fully to him. Not in submission. In power. In challenge.
His breath hitched.
He knelt between my legs, his gaze drinking me in like wine. His fingers dipped into the salve, and when they touched me cold fire.
I hissed. My back arched.
"Fuck Lucian…"
He didn't speak. He worked slowly, pressing the ointment between my folds, over the torn skin, around the edge of my entrance. Each touch was a line between pain and pleasure, a slow burn that left me writhing.
"You're drenched," he muttered, eyes narrowing.
"I'm healing."
"You're aroused."
"You're arrogant."
His fingers pushed deeper, rubbing the salve inside me. I cried out half agony, half ecstasy.
"You ache for me," he said. "Your body knows what your mouth denies."
"You're in my body," I panted. "Of course I ache."
His eyes flared.
Then he leaned forward and licked the mark on my chest again.
I shuddered.
When he pulled back, his lips were inches from mine.
"You'll beg for me, Aria," he whispered. "Not tonight. But soon."
Then he stood, eyes burning, and left me trembling on the bed, naked, wet, marked, and absolutely ruined.
The door clicked shut.
And I whispered into the silence:
"I already did. Once. When I burned."