A knock, firm and measured. Darius.
I open the door, and he’s standing there in the hall, shoulders filling the space like he was carved to fit thresholds and command them. He doesn’t speak right away. Just looks at me, and in that look there’s something heavier than words.
“Walk with me,” he says finally. Not a request.
I follow him down the hall, barefoot on the wood, the air cool enough to raise goosebumps on my arms. He leads me past the guest rooms and the library, to a door I’ve never seenopen before. When he unlocks it, the hinges groan like they’re protesting, and inside is a narrow set of stairs leading down.
The air changes as soon as we descend: thicker, cooler, carrying a scent like old cedar and rain on stone. The walls are rough-hewn, the light dim, the sound of our steps echoing in a way that makes the space feel older than the house above it. At the bottom, there’s a small chamber. No furniture. Just a circular space with low-burning candles and symbols etched into the stone floor.
“What is this?” I ask, my voice low without meaning to.
He steps to the center, turning toward me. “This is where we make sure no one touches you. Where we make it known that you’re mine.”
My heart stutters at the word. “Yours?”
His mouth curves slightly. Not a smile, but something darker, heavier. “Not a full bond. Not yet. But the moment I put my scent on you, every shifter within a hundred miles will know you’re under my protection. They’ll think twice before even breathing your name.”
I swallow, the weight of it settling in my chest. “And if I say no?”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Then I keep guarding you the hard way. But it won’t change what’s coming. This makes it easier. Safer.”
There’s no pressure in his tone, no impatience. Just fact. But the way his eyes hold mine… it’s like he’s giving me the truth and letting me decide if I can live with it.
I step closer, my voice quieter. “What does it feel like?”
His gaze flickers over my face, and something in his shoulders shifts. “Like you’re carrying a piece of me in your skin. Like the world knows it.”
I take a slow breath. “Okay.”
His jaw tightens, but not in surprise. Like he already knew my answer. He steps forward, closing the space between us, the air shifting with his heat. He lowers his head, his breath brushing my ear.
“I need you still,” he murmurs. “No pulling away.”
My pulse hammers, but I nod. His hand comes to the back of my neck, firm but not forcing, guiding me to tilt my head just enough. Then I feel it: his mouth at the curve where my neck meets my shoulder, the heat of him searing through skin. His breath draws in deep, deliberate, and then the low sound that escapes his chest. It’s not a growl exactly, but it vibrates against me like thunder caught in a cage.
He presses his mouth to my skin, not biting, not breaking, just… claiming. Scenting me so deep it feels like it’s sinking into bone. I don’t realize I’ve grabbed his shirt until my knuckles ache from the grip.
When he pulls back, the room feels smaller. I feel smaller and larger all at once—like I’ve been drawn into him in some way I can’t name. His scent wraps around me now—dark, warm, unmistakable. I can feel it clinging to me like the echo of a heartbeat that’s not mine.
“It’s done,” he says quietly.
But it doesn’t feel done. My body is humming, my skin too aware, and there’s a heat curling low in me that makes it impossible to stand still. I ache for him, like my body’s decided it knows something my mind hasn’t caught up to yet. I step back, trying to find some space to breathe, but the air is heavy with him, and I’m not sure space even exists anymore.
“Is it?” I ask.
“A scenting, yes,” he explains. “But not a full claiming. That process is a little more… intimate.”
The way he says it makes my skin flush with heat.
We walk back upstairs, the silence thick but not uncomfortable, just charged. But the moment we reach the hall, the air shifts again.
Mary’s there.
She’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching us like she’s been waiting. She doesn’t look older than me, but there’s something in her eyes that’s too sharp, too knowing to belong to someone in their twenties.
“You marked her.” Her voice is flat, but I can just feel the weight in it.
Darius doesn’t even blink. “Yes.”
