Chapter 3
Lia's POV
He doesn't hear me. My vision blurs, and my brain, starved of blood, starts shutting down. Right before I go under completely, I hear him let out a pained groan, and something cold drips onto my face.
When I wake up again, it's already noon the next day.
I touch my neck and find two deep bite marks, ringed with strange red lines. My werewolf healing hasn't done a thing to it.
The room is empty. Evan is gone.
On the nightstand sits the familiar card, along with a short note, the handwriting messy, like it was scrawled in a hurry.
I'm sorry. Wait for me.
I sit on the bed for a long time, just staring at the note.
Finally, I text him: What were you last night, a rabid dog? You bit me so hard I thought you were trying to kill me.
A few hours later, he replies with one word: Sorry.
I stare at the screen, and that strange, hollow feeling gets worse.
Over the next few months, I text him now and then, telling him about whatever good food I ate that day. But his replies get slower, shorter, until eventually he stops responding altogether.
I look at the wall of unanswered gray bubbles and sigh.
"Whatever. Men aren't worth as much as a good meal anyway. At least the card's still mine. Guess I'll just chalk it up to some weird dream I had in college." I toss my phone aside, walk into the kitchen, and make myself five packs of instant ramen.
After graduation, I go back to my pack.
My dad, after years of eating garbage, ends up with high blood pressure and high cholesterol, and retires early, handing the pack over to me — making me the new Alpha.
The first thing I do is take the card Evan left me and invest it in a couple of meat-packing plants and a barbecue restaurant chain for the pack.
Within a year, our pack, the one that used to struggle just to keep everyone fed, becomes the biggest werewolf business network in the region. I go from a broke college kid stressing over a plate of barbecue to Lia, the one in tailored suits, driving a car that costs more than my old apartment.
But the bite mark on my neck never fades. Werewolf healing is strong, ordinary wounds close up in days, but this one never does. If anything, the red lines around it only get sharper over time, like some kind of intricate emblem.
I cover it with makeup for a long time. Then one day, I go to a cross-species business event.
After the meeting wraps up, I run into a vampire businessman in the hallway. Luke. He's a chatty guy, but the moment his eyes land on my neck, he freezes.
"Lia, you..." Luke's eyes go wide, and he points at my neck. "You're marked?"
"Huh? Oh, this scar?" I touch it without much thought. "A meal buddy from way back got a little too into it. Guess his teeth were poisoned or something, it just never healed."
Luke sucks in a breath. "Meal buddy? Lia, do you have any idea what that is?"
"What?"
"That's the mate mark. It's exclusive to vampires." Luke drops his voice, dead serious. "A vampire only leaves a mark like that, one with actual magic in it, when they've developed an extreme possessiveness toward someone and are willing to bind their life to theirs. Once you're marked, you belong to him completely. You're his only mate. Any other vampire who catches that scent knows to stay away."
I just stand there, my brain completely blank for a solid ten seconds.
"What did you just say? Mate? Belong to him?" My voice climbs. "I let the guy feed off me for three years in exchange for food, that's it! Since when does that mean he gets to claim me?!"
Luke wipes sweat off his forehead. "The mark's permanent. And to leave one this clear, he'd have to be pureblood, old money, serious status. Lia, exactly who did you get involved with?"
I don't answer. I turn and walk straight into the restroom, staring at the mark in the mirror, my thoughts a complete mess.
That jerk. Leaving was one thing, but branding me on the way out? What was he even thinking?
I pull out my phone and open the chat thread that's been dead for half a year, typing fast.
What did you mean by that bite? You'd better explain yourself.
After I hit send, I stare at the screen, my heart pounding for no reason.
Ten minutes pass. Then thirty.
Just when I'm sure he's gone quiet on me again, a reply pops up.
You... know?
I let out a short, angry laugh and type back. Obviously! Someone just told me it's a mate mark! What gave you the right to brand me without asking?
His last message: I'm sorry. I lost control. If this is a problem for you, I can make it up to you.
Make it up to me? I stare at those words, and something ugly flares up in my chest.
Make it up to me my ass. I've got plenty of money now. I don't need anything from you.
I send that, then shut my phone off completely, done with this vampire for good.
A few months later, the pack's last big project finally closes. I drive home exhausted, back to my penthouse downtown.
I park, grab a bag of late-night food, and take the elevator up.
The second I step off, I see a dark shape crouched outside my door.
He's in a thin coat, curled up in the shadows, looking like some stray dog left out in the rain.
He hears the elevator and slowly lifts his head.
The hallway light clicks on, lighting up a face that's pale, thin, and still unfairly gorgeous.
It's Evan.
He looks up at me, his eyes going red almost instantly. "Lia... I'm so hungry."
