Chapter 7

7

Rylan zeroed in on the mark that marred Liza's delicate skin. The sight of it sent a surge of raw fury through him, a white-hot rage that made his vision blur at the edges. His wolf growled, a low, menacing sound that rumbled deep within his chest. His canines sharpened in response, the claim overpowering all else.

Inhaling deeply, Rylan caught it; the lingering scent of the other wolf in her skin. It was enough to make him see red. That mark, that vile reminder of a false claim, was a stain he couldn't bear to see on his mate. It was a lie, a perversion of what should have been sacred, and it filled him with a need so powerful it left him trembling with the force of it.

Rylan grabbed Liza to him. His hands gripped her shoulders as he leaned in, his breath hot against her neck. Liza gasped, but she did not pull away.

His lips brushed over the mark, his growl vibrating against her skin before his teeth sank into her flesh. The bite was hard, deliberate. His canines pierced the tender skin with a precision that spoke of both dominance and desperation. He wanted this mark to scar, to be permanent, an unmistakable sign to the world that Liza was his and no one else's.

Liza trembled in his arms, a soft moan escaping her lips. He knew that his mark was a mix of pleasure and pain. The deeper he made it, the more pleasure he'd give his fated mate.

The scent of her arousal filled Rylan's nostrils. It was intoxicating, heady. It heightened his own desire, his need to claim her in every possible way. He felt her heartbeat quicken. Her body pressed against his, warm and pliant, as she surrendered to him completely.

When he finally pulled away, his mouth smeared with the faintest trace of blood, he gazed into her eyes. The connection between them crackled in the air, electric and undeniable. Liza's eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. But there was no fear there—only trust, desire, and something deeper, something that resonated within him and made his heart clench with a fierce protectiveness.

Mine.

Rylan's gaze dropped to her lips, and without a second thought, he captured her mouth. Mine , he claimed as he licked past her lips. Mine , he confirmed when she opened for him. His lips moved over hers with a hunger that bordered on desperation. And, thank the gods, she met him stroke for stroke.

As the kiss deepened, something shifted. The intensity of his need to mark her was met with a realization that rocked him to his core—she was marking him just as much as he was marking her. Every brush of her lips, every flick of her tongue was a branding of his soul, a claim that went beyond the physical. She was embedding herself in his heart, in his very being, in a way that no one else ever had.

Rylan's hands slid up to cup her face as he poured everything he felt into that kiss. The desire, the need, the love he hadn't even realized was there—it all flowed between them, a current that connected them in ways words could never capture.

The quiet knock at the door sliced through the charged air between them, yanking Rylan out of the intense connection he'd been drowning in with Liza. He growled low, his wolf still on edge, a primal frustration simmering just below the surface. But the scent that wafted in from beyond the door made him freeze, his nostrils flaring as recognition hit him.

Micah.

Rylan cursed under his breath, the weight of the situation crashing down on him like a wave. He turned to Liza, who was still dazed, her lids low and lips slightly parted from the fervor of their kiss.

"Go," he said, his voice low but firm. "Wait in the other room."

Confusion flashed across her face, but she didn't argue. With a slight nod, she turned and slipped through a door at the side of the cabin, leaving him alone with the gravity of what he was about to face.

Rylan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, to rein in the tumultuous emotions that churned within him. The cabin felt too small, too confined, and the scent of Liza—sweet and warm, tinged with the faintest trace of fear—lingered in the air, making it hard to focus.

He crossed the room in a few quick strides and pulled open the door, revealing Micah standing on the other side. The older Alpha's face was shadowed, his expression unreadable, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made Rylan's gut twist.

"Micah," Rylan greeted, forcing a calm he didn't feel. The cool night air brushed against his skin, carrying the scent of his forests into the cabin.

"Rylan," Micah replied, his voice steady, though there was an edge to it that set Rylan's nerves on high alert. "Is my daughter here?"

The question hung in the air like a loaded weapon. Rylan hadn't thought about Celine since he'd laid eyes on Liza. Celine, the woman he was supposed to mate with to secure the land deal that would expand his pack's territory.

But now, with Liza in his life, everything had changed. There was no way he could go through with the marriage. But if he didn't… he knew there would be consequences.

Rylan's mind raced, torn between duty and the undeniable bond he shared with Liza. He could lie, could tell Micah what he wanted to hear. The thought of doing so left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn't betray Liza like that—not when she was his fated mate.

"There's been a change of plans," Rylan finally said, his voice firm, though the words felt like they were cutting him open. "I can't marry your daughter, Micah."

Micah's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as the implications of Rylan's words sank in. The silence between them stretched taut, heavy with the weight of unspoken consequences. Rylan could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface, the disappointment that was about to boil over.

Before Micah could respond, the door to the other room burst open, and Liza stormed out, her face flushed with anger. Clearly, she had heard everything.

"You were going to marry someone else?"

Rylan's heart lurched at the sight of her, the pain in her eyes cutting through him like a knife. "Liza, I?—"

She didn't let him finish. She launched herself at him, her fists colliding with his chest in a flurry of blows that were more about venting her anger than causing him any real harm. Still, each punch his fated mate dealt him was a blow.