CHAPTER 10
Isabella's POV
The mark on my neck burned deeper than ever.It vibrated violently with recognition that sent a jolt of electricity down my spine.
The rage that had been sustaining me vanished, replaced by a terrifying, breathless familiarity.
I knew those eyes. I had seen them reflected in the pool of my own blood the night the world ended and began again.
"You," I whispered, the word barely a breath. The red eyes didn't blink. They just stared, pinning me to the spot.
It wasn't just a monster in the woods. It was Him. The being that had drained me. The very being that had claimed me like a piece of lost luggage.
The shadow stepped forward, and for the first time, the moonlight hit him fully. My brain stalled.
Okay, first of all, rude. If you're going to be a blood-sucking nightmare, you have no right to be this pretty.
He was breathtaking. No, that's too small a word. He was devastating. His skin was the color of snow, so smooth it looked like it had never known a pore.
He had a jawline so sharp it could probably cut glass, and dark hair like liquid falling over his brow.
But it was the sheer perfection of his features that felt like a slap in the face. He had these long, dark lashes and lips so perfectly shaped they would make the most beautiful girl in our pack look like a thumb.
He was masculine, yes, built with the broad shoulders of a warrior, but possessed a delicate, ethereal beauty that felt... wrong.
He looks like a god who got bored of heaven and decided to try out being a villain. He was moving toward me with this silent, predatory grace of a shadow.
"You abomination," His voice was like velvet over gravel, resonating right in my....Wait what.
Abomination? Excuse me? I know I'm wolfless, but calling me an 'abomination' is so rude.
"Stay back!" I snapped, moving backward, my heart hammering.
"I... I'll scream! My pack is right there!" He tilted his head with a curious, almost amused expression.
"Your pack?" He spoke the word like it was a joke—a foul taste in his mouth. He took another step, I could even hear a sound from his walk.
He was about to cross the invisible line—the border our Elders had soaked in holy water from the Eastern region to keep the 'unholy' out.
The moment his foot touched the grass, he recoiled with a violent hiss, his body jerking back as if he'd stepped on a hot coal.
At the exact same moment, the mark on my neck erupted. "Ah!" I gasped, clutching my throat.
It felt like a branding iron was being pressed into my flesh, syncing with his agony.
What the fuck? The man stumbled back into the shadows, the red glow in his eyes flaring with shock and lethal irritation.
He looked at the ground, then snapped his gaze back to me, his focus landing directly on my covered throat.
My heart did a frantic somersault. He's hungry. The memory of his fangs sliding into my skin flooded my mind.
I yanked my black hoodie upward, pulling the fabric high over my chin until the bandage was buried.
"Don't," I choked out. "Don't...You fucking dare drink from me again." He stayed in the shadows, his chest heaving slightly.
The predatory amusement was gone, replaced by a dark, intense curiosity. "You think I came here to feast?"
He looked at the border—that invisible, holy-watered barrier—and then back at me. A slow realization dawned behind those crimson eyes.
"That mark..." He spoke more to himself than to me. "It bonded me to her?"
To what? Oh no, Hell-fuckin-no. I might not have a wolf but I have a brain and I made sure it came handy when my wolf didn't.
Was all those sudden emotions that didn't felt like mine came from him? This...this stupidly handsome stranger?
He took a step toward the edge of the shadow, careful not to touch the pack soil again. "You are supposed to be dead," he said, his voice dropping low.
"No mortal survives the thirst of a King when he first wakes. I drained you until your heart was a stuttering ghost. You should be rotting in the soil."
"Sorry to disappoint," I snapped immediately, my free hand still clutching my hoodie over the mark. "I didn't ask for your permission to live," I dared saying.
The man circled the part of my pack borders, I walked closer to him, not really near where he could grab me though.
"Why are you here?" I asked, leaning into my crutches. " What do you want from me? "
His eyes flashed black before returning back to its red. "At first?" He let out a breath that wasn't quite a laugh.
"Nothing. You were a meal. A lucky convenience found in the dirt. I intended to take what I needed and leave your husk for the crows." He paced the shadow line, his gaze never leaving mine.
"But the blood... your blood was not what I expected. It didn't just feed me, it spoke to me. And now?"
His jaw tightened with visible irritation. "Now, surprisingly you bear my mark. A King's signature etched into the skin of a stray. It is... unacceptable."
'A stray.' The words were sharper than the holy water that had just scorched him. After seventeen years of being the "wolfless freak," hearing it from a stranger felt like the final door slamming shut.
To my pack, I was a broken shifter. To this monster, I wasn't even worth the title of 'wolf.' I was just a walking blood-bag.
The fear that had been trying to paralyze me finally sharpened into anger. I wasn't scared anymore. I was exhausted actually.
"All these big talks for something I don't even want" I neared him more. "I don't want to feel your 'King's signature' or whatever pretentious name you have for it! If it's so 'unacceptable' to you, then be a man and take it back! Take it off me and go back to whatever coffin you crawled out of!"
The air pressure around us spiked. For a second, I thought he was going to find a way through the barrier just to snap my neck but I was confident enough to trust my gut.
"I will," he said, flashing a dangerous, bone-chilling smile. Before I could even reply or blink, he was gone. Just... gone.
I sat there on the forest floor, breath heaving, clutching my crutches like they were a lifeline. "What the hell just happened," I whispered to the empty trees.