I expected resistance. Got plenty of it. Kari’s suspicion. Marcus’s skepticism. Dane’s constant, simmering dominance: that relentless pressure of an Alpha who doesn’t trust anything he can’t control.
But I stayed. Trusted my instincts even when they led me straight into danger.
Now I know the truth. Faelan didn’t just manipulate others. He marked me too. The scar I’ve carried wasn’t some battle wound from a past encounter. It was engineered. A circuit. A claim. A hook embedded in my skin long before I had any idea what I was to him.
My fingers trace the faded mark. Still there, but quieter now. My magic, not his.
I’ve walked the Fade three times. First to investigate, the second almost finished me off, then one more time to dismantle it. Each time, I came out different. Less certain about some things. More certain about others.
I was a weapon before. Self-contained. Self-directed. Now I’m something else. A protector. Part of something I never expected to want.
Dane shifts slightly beside me, his heartbeat steady under my palm. His scent surrounds me—pine, ash, blood, and something uniquely him. Something that once felt like a threat and now feels like safety.
This territory. These wolves. Him.
This is home now. Not just a job. Not just survival.
I’ve been marked again—this time by choice.
I shift onto my side, studying Dane in the pale light. His face is relaxed in sleep—the hard lines of tension smoothed away, revealing the man beneath the Alpha. My fingertips trace thescar that runs along his collarbone, a memento from some long-ago battle he never talks about.
Something warm and possessive rises in my chest. This man stepped between me and death. Took a blow meant to end me. Survived when he shouldn’t have.
And here he is. Mine.
I lower my head, pressing my lips to his chest. His skin is warm, tasting faintly of salt and that distinctive scent that’s purely Dane. I circle one flat nipple with my tongue, feeling it harden under my attention. His breathing changes; not awake yet, but stirring.
I move to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment while my hand slides down the ridged plane of his stomach. The muscles there tighten reflexively under my touch.
“Nova,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
I don’t answer, just continue my exploration downward. My lips trail across the defined muscles of his abdomen, following that tempting line of dark hair that disappears beneath the sheet. I pull the sheet back slowly, revealing all of him.
Even in repose, there’s nothing soft about Dane Vaughn. His body is a map of scars and muscle, built for battle and survival. I feather kisses along his hip bone, then across to the opposite hip, deliberately avoiding where he’s already beginning to harden.
His hand finds my hair, fingers tangling but not directing. “What are you doing?” His voice is deeper now, sleep falling away.
“Saying good morning.” I nip at the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, and am rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.
His cock is fully hard now, rising thick and impressive against his stomach. I run my tongue from base to tip in one long, slow lick. His entire body tenses, tendons standing out in his neck as he lifts his head to watch me.
“Fuuuck,” he growls, eyes fixed on my mouth as I circle the head with my tongue.
I take him deeper, wrapping my hand around what won’t fit in my mouth. My other hand finds his balls, rolling them gently between my fingers. They’re heavy, tight, and he groans when I apply just enough pressure to make him feel it.
“Best fucking alarm clock,” he says through gritted teeth. “Better than—Jesus—“ His words dissolve into a growl as I hollow my cheeks and suck harder.
His hips thrust upward involuntarily, and I adjust to take him deeper. The muscles in his arms flex as he grips the sheets, fighting for control. His abdomen is a rigid wall of tension, every muscle defined. Sweat beads across his skin.
Those eyes that can command a pack with a glance are now dark with need, pupils blown wide. He’s watching me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
“Nova,” my name is half warning, half plea. “I’m going to—“
I release him with a final swirl of my tongue, moving up his body until I’m straddling him. His hands immediately find my hips, fingers digging in hard.
“Fucking tease,” he says, but there’s no heat in it, only desperate need.
“Not teasing,” I say, positioning myself over him. I’m already wet, have been since I first tasted him. My body’s response to him is immediate, visceral; my wolf rises close to the surface, wanting nothing more than to claim and be claimed.
