Thalina sat curled up on Zorath's massive bed, her body trembling as she stared at the small mark on her lap. A perfect white lion head, etched into her skin like an unshakable curse.
Her fingers brushed over it, desperate, as if touching it would make it fade away. But it didn't. The mark remained, cool and permanent, an unspoken claim seared into her flesh.
A choked sob left her lips.
When that stupid lord had growled that she belonged to him, she hadn't thought he meant it literally. She had scoffed, rolled her eyes at his arrogance. But now—now she knew better.
Last night, she hadn't thought much of it when he bit her. She assumed it was just some beastly quirk, something primal in his nature. But this? This was something else entirely.
This was a bond.
Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks in hot, silent streams. This mark was proof.
Proof that she was bound to this world. She was bound to stay here and follow the stupid plot.
