His hand shifts to cradle my cheek gently, his thumb caressing my skin with a tenderness that belies the strength in his arms. “This mark,” he continues, his voice softening, “I didn’t give it lightly, and I don’t give my heart lightly, either.”
He leans in, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling. “I chose you, Cleo, with every fiber of my being. This mark, it ties me to you, yes. But more than that, I knew what I was giving you by marking you.”
The warmth in his gaze thaws the last of my doubts, filling the spaces between my heartbeats with something new, something exhilarating. “I could never hate you for making me feel alive, for making me love so deeply. You’ve awakened a part of me I didn’t know existed. And for that, I could never hate you.”
He smiles then, a genuine, heart-stopping smile that lights up his entire face. “I love you, Cleo. And I’ll spend every day making sure you never doubt that. This mark, it’s not a chain. It’s the start of a bond, and one day, hopefully soon, I will wear it proudly when you return it.”
In that moment, any lingering guilt or fear dissolves under the weight of his words, his love. Zayn’s mark isn’t just a claim—it’s a gift, one he is trusting I will return one day.
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Zayn presses his lips against my forehead and wraps his arm around my shoulders, tugging me toward his car.
Chapter 16
• Cleo •
Morning light filters through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Yesterday is now a haunting memory I wish wasn’t mine. I’m uncomfortably aware of the pulsing sensation on my neck—the mark Zayn branded into my skin. It’s both a declaration and a binding, like a ring etched with fangs instead of diamonds. My fingertips graze the tender spot, and a shiver runs through me, not from pain but from the depth of what it represents.
Turning my head to the side, Zayn is not in bed, making me wonder where he is, however my mind is also stuck on yesterday. How my entire life was turned upside down and now I have no idea what I’m doing.
Sitting up against the mountain of pillows. The thoughts in my head are a jumbled mix of anxiety and excitement, each one colliding with the others like atoms gone wild.
For once I have no obligations or restrictions, yet at the same time, I have no idea what to do with this weird freedom. Is the pulsing of my neck truly freedom or just another cage?
One I willingly climbed into.
I swing my legs off the bed and pad across the floor, catching my reflection in the full-length mirror. Dark blonde hair tousled, deep green eyes staring back at me with an intensity I hardly recognize anymore.
“Morning,” Zayn’s deep voice rumbles from the doorway, his eyes taking in the sight of me with an intensity that ignites my skin.
“Morning.” I’m acutely aware of the power I hold over him now. If I reject him, he’ll be weakened, vulnerable. The thought makes my stomach churn.
I turn to find him leaning against the doorframe, his muscular build outlined by the soft light, dark chocolate locks framing a face that could make angels sin. His eyes hold a glint of silver as they meet mine.
“Are you just going to stare at yourself all morning?” Zayn’s voice cuts through my reverie, low and laced with amusement.
“Maybe,” I retort playfully, and my heart skips a beat. “There’s a lot to take in.”
“Come here,” he says.
I cross the room to where he stands. He reaches out, his fingers tracing the mark on my neck with tenderness. A sigh escapes me, a sound of surrender that feels right at this moment.
“Zayn…” My voice is a breathy whisper as the countless emotions swirling within hunts for an outlet.
“Shh,” he hushes gently, pulling me close. “I know. It’s a lot. You’re safe here, Cleo. Just let things happen naturally.”
His lips find mine, and the world narrows down to the point of contact between us. The kiss deepens, sparking a fire that threatens to consume me, fueled by the raw energy of this one-sided bond. Yet I still can feel him, the sensation is odd, unnatural to me. I struggle to differentiate my emotions from his like they bleed into each other. It’s just a trickle since I haven’t marked him, but odd all the same.
“Zayn,” I murmur against his mouth, “what if…”
“Whatever you’re worrying about, it can wait,” he assures me before capturing my lips once more.
The fears linger, shadows at the edge of the bright flame we’ve kindled. What have we done? What does the future hold?
“Let’s not think about that now,” Zayn whispers, sensing my inner turmoil, his hands roaming over my body in a way that makes it impossible to focus on anything else. Eventually, he pulls away, leaving me breathless. “Get dressed. I have pack members downstairs.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask him and he shrugs.
“Nothing I can’t handle. Just pack fears; word travels fast so I now have a house full of curious pack members; well, the ones who help run the pack with me.” I nod and get dressed before we head downstairs together, the atmosphere in the packhouse is charged with tension. The air is thick with whispered conversations that die down as we enter.
