He Wanted to Mark Me

He staggered back half a step from my push, seeming momentarily startled, yet that uncontrollable aura didn’t fade. I seized the moment, hurried around him, almost lunging to the table, and snatched up the cup. “I—I just put a little Lunarbane Dust in your cup!” I turned to him, words tumbling out in a rush. “The normal reaction should be rashes, at most lasting an hour, definitely not like this—” I looked at him, and my voice involuntarily dropped. “This isn’t right.” He stayed where he was, not advancing, but those silver eyes of his—cool on the surface—hid churning undercurrents beneath, as if the calm had been forcibly held back. Then he smiled. Shallow, almost teasing, but it sent a shiver down my spine. “Eira,” he said slowly, voice low and husky, “a foolish girl like you—” “Probably took the wrong powder,” I blurted out. He tilted his head slightly, a trace of teasing lacing his tone. “Like last time, when you used calming powder as prophetic ink and put the entire ritual to sleep.” My face turned pale. “And on last year’s new-moon night, you—” “Stop it!” I almost shouted, rushing forward, rising on my toes, and clamped my hand over his mouth. The instant my palm pressed against his lips, I regretted it. Too hot. His breath hit my palm, scorching and alive. The next second, he didn’t pull away—instead, he tilted his head slightly, letting the tip of his tongue brush gently across my palm. A single, light touch. Yet it felt like electricity shooting through me. Tingling exploded along my fingers, and I shuddered violently, a soft, involuntary moan escaping my throat. The air went still. He paused. But those silver eyes of his grew even more mesmerizing. He didn’t immediately step back. Instead, his forehead almost touched mine, his breath low and close, voice brushing my ear with a restrained huskiness. “The effect of Lunarbane Dust,” he said, “a diligent student like you should know better than I do.” I froze. “This is an introductory lesson for werewolves.” Slowly, deliberately, he spoke each word, forcing me to face the truth. “First, mild stinging.” “Then, burning heat.” “Finally—rashes crawling along the wrist bone.” His gaze dropped to the cup in my hand, then lifted slowly to meet mine again. “You… have touched it already.” My breath caught. Only in this moment did I belatedly realize that the strange warmth in my palm was no longer nervousness. It was heat. A kind of restless fire spreading inward from the skin, fine and stubborn, as if the moonlight itself had slowly set it alight. I instinctively tightened my fingers, only to feel the temperature rise even more. “So… how do you feel? Any reaction?” he asked softly. I parted my lips but couldn’t reply immediately. Because my scent had already betrayed me. It was the subtle, moist lunar tide aroma that only the Tideborne Clan emitted when their emotions went unbalanced—soft, unshielded, spreading through his room, entwining with the scorching silver-moon scent radiating from him. Too close. So close I could hardly tell where his aura ended and mine began. His gaze was frighteningly dark. Those frosted silver wolf ears twitched lightly, as if catching a lethal signal. He lowered his head, lips almost touching my palm, his tongue brushing across it again. This time—slower. Clearer. Shivers raced along my nerves up my spine. I couldn’t help inching closer, a little, then a little more. Reason urged me to pull back, but my body betrayed me with terrifying honesty. His features loomed larger in my vision. Sharp brows. Straight nose. Those silver eyes, almost within reach. I had never liked his personality. Cold, oppressive, arrogant. But I had to admit— This face completely shattered my sense of aesthetics. The thought barely formed before I knew I was lost. Because the next second, I raised my hand and grabbed the front of his shirt. He froze for a moment. And I didn’t leave myself any way back. I rose on my toes, pressed closer, and kissed him. The instant our lips met, he shivered noticeably. Only with the kiss did everything truly lose control— No, release. Mental pressure, vigilance, hostility—all thrown aside in that single instant. Emotions no longer clashed; instead, they merged like two tides in resonance, finding an outlet together. My consciousness was lifted by a warm, clear pleasure, almost weightless. It wasn’t merely physical reaction. It was a connection of minds. He let out a low breath, arms tightening instinctively, holding me firmly against him. That silver-moon scent enveloped me completely, yet no longer suffocating—it was like deep midnight seawater, pulling me further into its depths. We kissed for a long time. So long that time itself seemed erased. So long that our breathing grew erratic, urgent. So long that I even forgot why I had come into this room in the first place. It wasn’t until the air in my lungs was nearly gone that he finally pulled back—reluctantly. His forehead rested against mine, breath hot and ragged. His voice was low, almost restrained, yet still carried an undeniable desire. “I want to mark you.” My heart slammed. He paused for a moment, as if checking my response, rather than being led purely by instinct. “May I?” That single question almost brought me fully back to my senses. He was the heir of the Silver Throne of the Argent Moon. And I was the heir of the Tideborne Covenant. That question itself was respect. The last shred of rationality he was trying to maintain. And it was precisely that thread of reason that snapped me completely awake. We were never in an ambiguous relationship. Never partners testing each other. Never lovers arranged by fate. We had been placed on the same measuring line since childhood. We were mirrors of one another. Ever meant to be weighed, compared, measured. I had never considered becoming his lover. Never wanted to be his fate mate. I knew exactly what that would mean— Leaving the Tideborne Covenant. Leaving my clan. Leaving my father. Leaving all my roots behind. I lifted my hand sharply, pushing him away with all my strength. “No.” He staggered back a step from my push, silver eyes still burning with that residual heat, yet clearly caught off guard. I didn’t give him time to react, stepping back myself to put distance between us. “Tonight… this isn’t normal,” I said, taking a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. “It must be that I used the wrong powder.” I glanced at the cup, my chest still warm, but now I could clearly trace cause and effect. “Lunarbane Dust shouldn’t have caused this.” “Once we take the antidote, everything will return to normal.” Return to— The kind of relationship where we just couldn’t stand each other. Where we competed constantly. I turned to leave, fingers trembling slightly. “I’ll go find the clan’s apothecary.” “Once the antidote works, everything ends.” I pulled the door open. The night wind hit my face. I didn’t look back. Because I knew very well that if I lingered even a second longer— I might not be able to leave so decisively. I had just stepped into the corridor when I heard footsteps behind me. Not hurried, but steady. A jolt went through me, and I walked faster. Stone steps stretched beneath my feet, the night casting long, narrow shadows—but before I could turn the corner, he had already caught up. “Eira.” I didn’t stop. The next moment, he caught my wrist. Not with harsh force, but enough to prevent me from pulling away. “You’re going to see Silas?” I spun around sharply. “He’s decent with medicine,” Caedmon said calmly, though clearly he had already considered the consequences. “But ethics? None. Patient privacy? Forget it. Everything he learns, the entire clan will know by morning.” I felt my head buzz. He looked at me, delivering the final blow: “You want tonight’s events… known to the whole clan?”