The mirror in my cubbyhole had cracked even before they dragged me to this castle. A crooked line sliced my face in two. I tugged at the edge of a gray strip of cloth, tightening it around my throat.
"Vile thing," I hissed at my own reflection.
My fingers brushed against the ragged edges of skin beneath the fabric. The mark burned. Cale had left it during the night, and now it pulsed in time with my heart, beating out a jagged rhythm. Blood seeped through the weave, leaving a tiny stain.
"Alina! Are you dead in there?" The door to the small room shuddered from the kick of a boot.
I recoiled from the mirror, straightening the collar of my gray dress.
"Coming."
"Faster, omega. The Great Hall won't wait while you admire your pale mug."
I stepped out into the corridor, trying not to brush my shoulder against the overseer. The smell of burning and raw meat had already permeated the stones. Down below, in the Great Hall, the pack was celebrating a successful hunt.
The heavy oak doors swung open. The roar of voices hit my ears like a physical barrier. I pressed myself into the shadows by the entrance, grabbing a pitcher of wine.
"Hey, you! Over here!" A young wolf from the watch waved a hand, nearly overturning a bench. "Wine, quickly!"
I approached with my head bowed. My hair covered my neck, but the bandage felt like a massive, screaming brand.
"What are you trembling for?" The wolf bared his fangs in a sneer. "We aren't eating the servants today. Not yet."
"Drink, my lord," I said, pouring the dark liquid into his goblet, trying not to look him in the eye.
"Heard the Alpha was out of sorts yesterday?" his neighbor winked at me. "Word is, some interesting sounds were coming from his chambers."
I turned away, feeling heat flush my face.
"Your hands are shaking," a quiet, strained voice spoke.
Tom stood by a pillar, clutching a stack of clean plates. His knuckles were white.
"Get out of here, Alina. Say you're unwell."
"I can't, Tom. They'll kill me."
"Look at them. They're just waiting for an excuse. Your neck..."
"Be quiet. Please."
I moved further toward the high table. There, on the dais, sat Cale. His black leather armor absorbed the torchlight. He wasn't looking at the hall. His gaze was fixed on his goblet, fingers lazily stroking the carved stem.
Beside him, almost touching, sat Selena. The fox fur on her shoulders seemed alive in the flickering light.
"Oh, here is our quiet little mouse," Selena laughed loudly as I approached. "Cale, look, your servants have grown quite lazy. The goblet has been empty for a whole minute."
The Alpha did not lift his head. His presence weighed on my shoulders, making my knees buckle.
"Pour," he barked. Short, like the crack of a whip.
I reached for his goblet. My sleeve rode up, and Selena leaned forward, narrowing her eyes.
"What an interesting rag," her voice became sly. "A new fashion among the bed-warmers?"
"It's... just a scratch," I tried to step back.
"A scratch?" Selena rose, her energy—sharp and aggressive—lashing out at my senses. "I think you're hiding something. Dirt? Or lice?"
"Leave me be, my lady."
"Don't you dare command me!"
Selena made a sudden move. Her hand flashed through the air, claws glinting for a moment under the torchlight. She snagged the edge of the gray fabric.
A jerk.
The cloth snapped and fell onto the wine-stained floorboards.
Silence blanketed the hall instantly. The laughter cut off. The only sound was the crackling of a log in the hearth.
I froze, unable to move. The cold air of the hall touched my bare neck, where the Alpha's fresh, jagged mark glowed crimson. The teeth had left deep impressions; the surrounding skin was swollen and dark.
"Oh gods..." someone in the front row breathed.
"Is that a mark?" came the mocking voice of the young wolf. "On an omega? Cale, have you grown that desperate?"
The first chuckle was quiet, but it set the hall ablaze.
"Look! The Alpha marked the trash!"
"Maybe she bites back just as well?" an old werewolf in the corner guffawed.
Selena took a step back, her face twisting with disgust and triumph.
"How repulsive. Cale, have you truly sunk this low? She smells of nothing but fear and cheap soap."
I looked at Cale. My lips trembled. I searched his eyes for even a drop of pity, some sign that he would protect his property.
He slowly raised his gaze. His eyes were cold, like ice at the bottom of a well. Cale brought the goblet to his lips and took a sip, pointedly looking right through me.
"She is just a thing, Selena," his voice rang out clearly in the ensuing silence. "And things are sometimes marked so they aren't confused with someone else's scrap."
"Did you hear that?" Selena turned to the hall, spreading her arms. "The Alpha simply labeled his toy!"
Laughter exploded with renewed force. Someone threw a gnawed bone at me. It struck my shoulder, staining my dress with grease.
"Get out," Selena shoved me in the chest. "You stink of dog even more than the rest of them."
I turned and bolted for the exit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tom. He stood there, fingers gripping the edge of a table. His face was pale, a helpless rage burning in his eyes, but he didn't move. He knew—one step, and they would tear him apart on the spot.
I ran through the dark corridors, stumbling over uneven stones. Shame burned my face more fiercely than the open wound on my neck. Their laughter still rang in my ears, mingling with Cale's indifferent voice.
"Just a thing."
I burst into my room and slammed the bolt shut. With trembling hands, I felt for a ladle of water and began to scrub my neck, trying to wash away the very sensation of their stares. Water ran down my collar, and my dress clung to my back.
I huddled in the corner on my straw pallet, hugging my knees. The darkness brought no relief. Every rustle outside the door felt like a continuation of the torment.
Several hours passed. Moonlight pierced through a narrow slit near the ceiling, painting a pale stripe on the floor.
The click of the bolt made me jump.
The door opened without a creak. A massive figure loomed in the doorway. The scent of a bonfire, wet pine needles, and an icy wind rushed into the room, displacing the smell of dust.
Cale entered without waiting for an invitation. His head nearly touched the low ceiling beams.
"Go away," I whispered, pressing myself against the wall.
He didn't answer. He took a step, and I felt the bond between us tighten like a red-hot wire. My body, against my will, leaned toward his power.
Cale grabbed my chin, jerking my head up. His fingers were hard and calloused.
"Look at me," he commanded.
"Wasn't what happened in the hall enough for you?" I tried to break free, but he tightened his grip. "They laughed. You let them..."
"You have forgotten your place, Alina."
He slowly traced his thumb over the inflamed mark. The pain was sharp, electric, but it was followed by a wave of strange, terrifying warmth.
"You are my mistake," he breathed against my lips. His eyes glowed gold in the darkness. "The most shameful and ridiculous mistake in all the years of my reign."
"Then let me go! Break the bond, kill me, do something!"
"No."
He pressed his forehead against mine. I could feel his heavy breathing.
"You will wear this brand. You will endure their laughter. And you will wait for me here every night."
"I hate you," I whispered, closing my eyes as tears rolled down my cheeks.
"Your body says otherwise."
Cale jerked me roughly toward him, crushing his lips against mine in a kiss that held not a drop of tenderness—only dominance and fury. And the most terrifying part was that my own essence, my treacherous omega bond, responded to this horror with a joyful shiver.
When he pulled away, I could barely stand.
"Don't you dare put that bandage back on tomorrow," he threw over his shoulder, already standing in the doorway. "Let them see who you belong to."
The door closed. The grate of the key followed.
I slid down the wall to the floor, smearing tears across my face. The silence of the small room felt even heavier now than the noise of the Great Hall. I touched the mark, which was still pulsing from his touch. Freedom no longer existed. All that remained was this wound and a man who called me his mistake but refused to let me go.