Chapter 10: The Ninth Mate

Conrad’s teeth sank into the side of my neck.

The pain flared white-hot and immediate. His canines tore through cold skin, flooding the wound with a sudden rush of venom that forced a ragged gasp from my mouth. He held me pinned against the rock, his jaw locked tight until the chemical heat surged into my system, binding the claim.

When he finally pulled back, a trail of warmth dripped down my collar.

I brought trembling fingers to the raw puncture wounds, touching the swollen brand. I was his property now.

Under pack law, the rule was sacred and unyielding: a female could only bear one mate mark in her lifetime. But dominant Alphas played by no such limits. They collected women like hunting trophies. Conrad already had eight mates waiting for him in the northern territory.

I was simply number nine.

Conrad caught my wrist in the air, his calloused thumb brushing my knuckles. "How does it feel?"

"Done," I answered, keeping my voice flat to hide the throb pulsing beneath my skin.

He didn't believe me. He leaned in close, his warm tongue darting out to lick the puncture clean, using his saliva to seal the jagged edges of the tear.

"I like it on you," he murmured, his amber gaze softening as he looked at my face.

"Do you like it as much on me as you do on the others?" I countered dryly.

Conrad flashed an easy, unapologetic grin. "It gets better every season, Wren. Maybe the tenth time's the charm."

A dry, humorless sound slipped past my teeth. I shifted my weight, trying to stand, but the shreds of my bare feet gave out under the sharp sting of the gravel.

Before my knees could buckle, Conrad scooped me off the ground.

He lifted me against his chest with effortless strength, turning toward the path without asking for permission.

I didn't fight him. My strength had burned down to embers in the dark.

As he carried me through the thinning trees of the morning woods, my shoulders gradually dropped. The running was over. In this twisted world, that was as close to a victory as a tribute could ever get.

We reached the estate and Conrad carried me through the tall doors into the grand hall.

The warmth of the roaring hearth hit us in an instant. He set me down on my feet, and I stabilized myself against the wall, taking in the room.

Near the center of the hall, the newly mated tributes stood beside their masters, their bared necks sporting swollen, red bite marks identical to mine.

My gaze stopped on Gwen.

She stood trapped beneath Rafe’s heavy arm. Her slip was torn down the shoulder and plastered with dark dirt, her blonde hair tangled and damp against her forehead. Rafe’s grip bruised her hip, making it clear he hadn't waited for a bed.

Gwen met my eyes across the room. The fragile smile she had worn earlier was entirely gone, replaced by a vacant, glazed stare.

Beside me, Conrad’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against his side.

His posture shifted into an arrogant swagger, his eyes locking across the expanse straight onto Rafe.

I drove my elbow back into his ribs. "Stop that," I hissed.

"Easy, kitten," he replied, rubbing his side without dropping his smirk. "It's all fun and games."

Before I could pull away, his fingers clamped around my chin.

He forced my face up, slamming his mouth against mine. It wasn't born of passion, and it held no tenderness; it was an aggressive, theatrical claim performed entirely for the men watching.

He broke the kiss with a chuckle, raising his voice so it carried across the quiet hall:

"He has no idea what he missed out on by giving up."

The words dropped like a match onto fuel.

A thunderous, feral growl erupted from Rafe’s chest, vibrating through the floorboards. The color in his eyes shifted, darkening toward pitch black as his beast surged to the surface. He kicked a heavy chair aside, sending it crashing into the wall, and stormed toward us.

"Look what you've done," I scolded, stepping back from the impending collision.

Conrad only laughed, planting his boots to meet the charge.

The room went taut, both Alphas mere inches from tearing into each other.

"Enough!"

Lady Vane’s command cracked through the hall like a gunshot.

Both men froze in their tracks.

Lady Vane stepped into the center of the room, Captain Vanya trailing a pace behind. But the fight died in the men's throats for another reason entirely.

The Alphas near the hearth drew back, lowering their heads in immediate deference as a heavy silence washed through the room.

Stepping out from the shadows of the side corridor was King Torin.

He walked with an unhurried, terrifying calm that parted the crowd without a single word. No one met his gaze. Even Rafe backed down, swallowing his rage as the Lycan King commanded the floor.

Then Torin stopped.

His eyes drifted past the warring Alphas, bypassing Conrad completely, and locked solely onto me.

My breath stopped in my throat.

His unblinking gaze anchored on the fresh, bloody puncture wounds carved into the side of my neck. There was no anger on his face, no shock. Just that same bottomless, glacier-cold emptiness that seemed to swallow all the air in the room.

I was already marked. The law said a female could never take another claim. I belonged to Conrad.

Lady Vane stepped forward, a sharp, knowing smile spreading across her painted red lips. She looked at the silent room, her eyes lingering on my face with unmistakable finality.

"There has been a change of plans."