Mark

POV Sage Winters

Three seconds.

That was how long I stood frozen after Thorne's words hung in the air between us.

Contract marriage. Three months. Help me, and I'll help you.

In my head, Silver went absolutely feral, throwing herself against every mental barrier I'd erected, her howls of approval reverberating through my skull.

I shoved her down viciously, forcing my expression into cold indifference even as my heart hammered.

"Are you insane?" I stepped around him toward my car. "I don't need help from strangers."

My fingers closed around the door handle. Almost there. Almost free of this suffocating cedar and leather scent.

A large hand pressed against the car door above my head, stopping me mid-pull.

"At least hear me out," Thorne said quietly.

I spun to face him. "Move. Now."

He didn't budge. His amber eyes studied me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Silver was howling in my head, torn between the urge to submit to his dominance and the urge to rip his throat out.

"This is a pure business transaction," he continued, his voice calm, reasonable. "I help you reclaim what your uncle stole from your mother. You pretend to be my girlfriend for three months. Help me deal with some family pressure."

He leaned slightly closer. "Three months. Then clean break. No strings attached."

It sounded like a commercial contract, not a marriage proposal. Cold. Efficient. Logical.

And I was not interested.

"I'll handle it myself," I said flatly.

I tried to open the door again. His hand remained firmly planted against it.

That was it.

I cracked my neck. The sharp pop echoed in the quiet parking lot.

Then I moved.

My knee drove upward toward his midsection . Thorne sidestepped with infuriating ease, the movement fluid and minimal.

I followed with a jab to his throat. He deflected it with the back of his hand, lazy, effortless, like swatting away a fly.

I spun, delivering a roundhouse kick aimed at his ribs.

He caught my ankle mid-strike.

Didn't squeeze. Just held it there, balancing me on one leg with absolute control that made my blood boil.

I lunged with my free hand. His other hand closed around my wrist like an iron manacle, stopping my momentum completely.

We stood there, locked together, my breathing ragged while his remained perfectly even.

"Let go," I said through gritted teeth.

He released me immediately, stepping back with hands raised.

"My offer has no downsides for you." His tone was infuriatingly calm. "We both get what we need. Fair trade."

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly where he could shove his fair trade when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

The screen lit up with a text.

Uncle Ronan: Come home early. Need to discuss something important with you tomorrow morning.

My stomach dropped.

I stared at the message, my mind racing. Celeste's mocking voice echoed in my memory. Father's trying to force me into marriage with some crippled Alpha... since Celeste won't take the contract, you're next.

And Kieran's threat. Ronan's already arranged your marriage! I've heard stories about that Alpha—sadist, his last two fiancées went insane—

Tomorrow. He wanted me home tomorrow to sign away my future.

I looked up at Thorne, who was still standing by my car, patient as a predator waiting for wounded prey to realize escape was impossible.

Against every instinct screaming at me to run, I pushed the car door fully open.

"What do I call you?" I asked.

"Thorne Ashford." He extended his hand.

"Sage Winters."

The moment our palms connected, electricity shot through my arm. A jolt of attraction, undeniable and overwhelming, racing through my veins and settling hot in my belly.

Silver's triumphant howl echoed in my mind, savage and victorious.

Traitor, I thought venomously.

This wasn't destiny. This was survival.

"How do we make this convincing?" I pulled my hand back quickly.

"You have to ask?" Thorne's expression remained neutral. "We mark each other."

I froze. "You're joking. I'm not going to let some stranger mark me."

"Temporary mark," he clarified. "Without the claiming ritual under the full moon, it'll fade in a few weeks. But it'll be enough for your uncle to smell the bond tomorrow."

My mind raced. A temporary mark. Just enough to convince Ronan I was already claimed by another Alpha. Just enough to buy me time.

"Now?" I asked.

"Now."

I slid into the driver's seat. Thorne moved to the passenger side. I drove to an empty corner of the lot, away from the main lights, and killed the engine.

Moonlight streamed through the windshield, turning everything silver.

"I'll mark you first," Thorne said quietly. "Then you mark me. Your uncle will smell the bond the moment you walk through his door."

I swept my hair aside, exposing the left side of my neck. My pulse hammered visibly against my skin.

"Make it quick," I said.

Silver was practically vibrating with excitement, her howls of anticipation battering against my mental walls.

Thorne leaned across the center console. The confined space made his cedar scent overwhelming, intoxicating. His hand came up to steady my shoulder, warm and gentle.

"Relax," he murmured.

His breath ghosted across my neck, sending shivers racing down my spine.

Then came the sharp pressure of his canines breaking skin.

The sensation that flooded through me wasn't pain. It was electric, tingling, spreading from the bite point through every nerve ending in my body. My back arched involuntarily. A gasp escaped my lips.

Ten seconds. That was all it took.

He pulled back, his tongue sweeping across the puncture wounds to seal them. The healing was instant, leaving only the crescent-shaped mark behind.

I pressed trembling fingers to my neck. The mark was warm, pulsing faintly.

And something else. A strange awareness bloomed at the edge of my consciousness. I could feel him. His presence, solid and undeniable, like a weight settling into a space I hadn't known was empty.

"Your turn," I managed, my voice shakier than I'd like.

Thorne adjusted his position in the cramped space, tilting his head to expose his neck. The strong column of his throat, the steady pulse beneath tanned skin.

I leaned forward. My canines extended, sharp and ready.

I hesitated for just a second. This would bind us. Temporarily, yes, but bind us nonetheless.

Then I struck.

My teeth sank into his flesh. The taste of his blood hit my tongue—wild, intoxicating, utterly male. Silver's roar of satisfaction shook my entire being, and I had to fight the urge to bite deeper, to claim instead of just mark.

Ten seconds.

I forced myself to pull back, licking the wounds closed. A matching crescent appeared on his neck, silver in the moonlight.

The moment my tongue left his skin, something clicked into place.

An invisible thread, pulling taut between us. The connection snapping closed like a lock.