Mark of Sin: Bound to the Cruel Alpha

My cheeks flushed with such intense heat that I was certain they were burning brighter than a wildfire. A full week under him was something I knew I wouldn’t survive—physically, my body would simply give out.

I had barely weathered these three days, and even now I felt as if I had been run over by a freight truck, which then promptly threw itself into reverse to run me over a second time for good measure. I couldn’t even fathom what would happen if a moment like this repeated itself—if he completely surrendered control to his beast like that again.

Typically, with true fated pairs, a breeder’s heat and an Alpha’s rut synchronized naturally, their bodies tuning into each other’s cycles like clockwork.

But my breeder gene was still silent. There were no signs of a mating heat anywhere on the horizon. It was too early to dwell on it now—my exhausted brain refused to entertain any thought more complex than my desperate craving for food and sleep—yet deep in the quiet recesses of my mind, that missing connection prickled like an anxious thorn.

I had realized just how insatiable he truly was during the peak of his rut, when the fever completely consumed him and the last traces of his human restraint vanished from his eyes.

He barely required food or sleep, capable of going days without closing his eyes. Yet he fed me with terrifying regularity, bringing food and water every few hours, watching me with dark, ravenous eyes as he waited with lethal patience for me to eat every single morsel.

Not a grain of rice could be left on the plate. And the moment I swallowed the final bite, the cycle resumed. He would pin me beneath his heavy body, entering me and filling me to my absolute limit once more.

Those three days had melted into one endless, seamless blur where light, darkness, day, and night ceased to exist. There were only his hands against my bare skin.

He washed me with surprising tenderness, lathering a soft sponge over my aching limbs, washing away the dried traces of our passion from my thighs and sweat from my skin. His wet fingers traced every bruise scattered across my body—and there were so many. Dark, fingerprint-shaped marks bloomed across my hips, my waist, my wrists, and the curve of my throat.

Though my skin felt refreshed and my hair clean, my exhaustion ran so deep that my eyelids were heavy with sleep. With his help, I dragged myself into the same grey tracksuit I had arrived in three days prior. Though crumpled, it was the only clothing I had.

As we descended the stairs into the roomy main floor, my eyes landed on a neat row of white takeout containers lined up on the massive dark-wood dining table, steam gently rising from their lids.

"Did someone come by?" I asked with a flick of curiosity, stepping closer and touching one of the boxes. It was piping hot, meaning it had arrived only moments ago.

"Yes, I ordered us takeout," Magnus shrugged, pouring black coffee into a tall mug, filling the kitchen with its rich, bitter aroma. "I can’t let my mate go hungry."

The words my mate, uttered with such unshakeable conviction as if it were a fundamental law of nature, sent a sweet, honeyed warmth spreading through my chest.

An involuntary smile touched my lips as I popped open the lid of the first container and leaned down to inhale the scent. It smelled divine—spicy, rich, and slightly sweet. Delicate slices of meat swam in a thick, dark sauce over crispy vegetables and fluffy white rice.

Unable to resist, I took a bite. An incredible explosion of tangy, sweet, and lightly spiced flavors burst across my tongue, the meat melting effortlessly into tender ribbons while the rice absorbed every drop of the rich sauce. I let out a soft, unconscious groan of pure pleasure. I had never tasted anything like this in my entire life.

"— Is it that good?" Magnus watched me with an attentive, searching gaze, leaning his back against the marble countertop with his mug held loosely in hand.

I licked my lips, catching the last remnant of sauce, and nodded, unable to speak with my mouth full. "Yes, it is. Absolutely delicious."

A ghost of a smirk played on his lips—that rare, almost imperceptible turn of his mouth that made my heart skip a beat. Beside him on the counter sat only his tall glass of black coffee, nothing else.

"What about you?" I asked between bites, gesturing toward his mug. "Aren’t you going to eat anything?"

"I’m not hungry," he replied calmly, taking a slow sip and wincing slightly at the bitterness.

Once I finished the container and tossed the empty box into the trash, we stepped out into the crisp air and climbed into his car. Magnus reached into the back seat to retrieve a soft, dark grey blanket, draped it over me, and then leaned across my lap to pull the lever on the side of my seat. The backrest reclined until it was nearly horizontal, transforming into a makeshift bed.

"Get some sleep," his tone softened, carrying a rare, almost tender warmth. "I’ll wake you as soon as we arrive. It’s a long drive."

A wave of overwhelming gratitude washed over me for his quiet thoughtfulness. My eyelids felt heavier than lead, desperate for rest. He switched on a quiet, wordless melody—a soothing instrumental track that hummed softly through the speakers. Wrapped in the blanket with the heater blowing warm air over my skin, the steady rhythm of the tires and the comforting scent of rain and ozone radiating off Magnus lulled me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I didn’t wake up to Magnus gently calling my name as he had promised.

I woke to the screech of tires slamming on the brakes. The sudden deceleration threw me forward, the seatbelt biting sharply into my hip, as a deafening wall of shouting and overlapping voices shattered the quiet cabin.

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