THE ALPHA'S MARKED MATE

I wake to the feel of Kael's mouth on my shoulder, tracing the crescent mark he gave me under last night's moon.

"Morning, Bridge," he murmurs against my skin, and the word sends heat pooling low in my belly. His hand slides across my ribs, pulling me back against his chest, and I let myself sink into the solid warmth of him. Through the bond, I can feel his satisfaction — deep, primal, possessive. His wolf is purring.

"It's still dark," I say, my voice rough.

"Then we have time."

He turns me to face him, and even in the grey pre-dawn light, the way he looks at me makes my breath catch. Like I'm the only thing in the world worth seeing. His thumb traces my cheekbone, and he kisses me — slow, deliberate, tasting me like something precious.

This is still new enough to steal my breath. Being wanted like this. After everything.

He pulls back just far enough to press his forehead to mine. "Feel that?" He takes my hand and presses it over his heart. "That's the bond. That's me. Connected to you in every —"

A frantic pounding at the door.

Kael's body goes rigid. The tenderness vanishes. He's on his feet and reaching for pants before I can blink, the Alpha replacing the lover in the space of a heartbeat.

"Enter," he snarls.

A border patrol wolf bursts in, bloodied and shaking. "Alpha. There's a body at the north border. Not a normal kill. The energy — all of it — it's just gone. Drained."

I feel it through the bond: Kael's rage, his fear, his instinct to shield me from whatever this is. He throws up walls between us, trying to cut me off.

"Stay here," he commands.

"I'm coming with you."

"Sera —"

"Try and stop me, wolf."

We stare each other down. The bond thrums with his need to protect and my refusal to be protected. Finally, he swears and points at the bathroom. "Two minutes. Don't leave my sight."

I'm reaching for my jacket when it happens.

The mark on my shoulder blade ignites. Not the warm pulse of the mate bond — this is white-hot agony that drives me to my knees on the tile.

"Sera!" Kael's fist hits the door.

I twist in front of the mirror, pulling my shirt aside, and what I see stops my heart.

The crescent mark — silver since the bonding, beautiful, mine — is changing. Dark veins of black are threading outward from its edges like cracks in ice, spreading across my skin with every pulse.

Kael breaks down the door. Sees it. And the raw terror in his golden eyes tells me everything.

This isn't supposed to happen.

"Don't touch it," he whispers. "Whatever you do —"

"Kael, what is this?"

He's already on the phone, his voice a blade: "Get the Elder. Now. The mark is spreading. It looks like the Corruption."

But here's what I don't tell him. What I can't tell him.

When the mark ignited, for just a fraction of a second, the bond between us went dark. Not quiet. Not dim. Dark. Like someone had cut the golden thread connecting us with a pair of shears.

And in that darkness, I felt something else reach for me. Something that wasn't Kael. Something ancient and patient and hungry.

And part of me — some deep, wolf-buried part I don't want to examine — reached back.

I pull my shirt down and meet Kael's terrified gaze with what I hope looks like steady courage.

"I'm fine," I say.

It's the first lie I've ever told him through the bond.

And the mark on my shoulder pulses once, like approval.