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CHAPTER THREE

BLAKE

I woke up groggy, my mind swimming in a fog. The first thing I registered was the room, not the pain I expected to feel.

I remembered agony, the sensation of claws tearing into my flesh, and yet... here I was, in a rustic cabin.

Pushing myself up slowly, I blinked at the sunlight streaming in through a window framed by towering trees.

My entire body should have felt like it was on fire, but instead, there was just a dull ache.

I swung my left leg over the bed, half expecting to collapse when I tried to stand.

My sprained ankle had been shredded, and yet, I could move it.

The oversized shirt I wore smelled faintly of ash and coffee—oddly comforting—and for a moment, I found myself inhaling the scent.

What the hell am I doing? I pushed the thought aside and focused on my body.

The bites, the slashes—they were healing. I didn’t know how or why, but I was… recovering? No, that wasn’t right.

I stumbled to my feet, the room spinning briefly before I steadied myself.

My eyes locked on a mirror hanging on the far wall, and with hesitant steps, I approached.

My reflection looked… off.

The person staring back at me felt familiar yet different, like something fundamental had shifted inside me. Then I saw it.

On the side of my neck, a raised bite mark—clean and precise, the size of a fist.

My breath hitched in my throat. I reached up, fingers brushing over the mark. It was real. It wasn’t a hallucination.

My stomach lurched, and I bolted to the nearest door. The bathroom, thank God.

I barely made it to the toilet before everything came rushing up, retching until I had nothing left.

I coughed, gagged, and clung to the porcelain like a lifeline.

When I finally pulled myself together, I shuffled to the sink, rinsing my mouth and splashing cold water on my face.

Please be gone. Please.

I looked in the mirror again, but the mark was still there, mocking me. A bite mark. No.

I knew what it was, but I refused to acknowledge it.

No shifter would give a hunter their mate mark. It was absurd. It went against everything I knew.

I closed my eyes, remembering fragments. A voice—growly but gentle, a shadowed face hovering over me as I lay dying.

That wasn’t my imagination. I had been dying. And then…

No. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—connect the dots. Right now, I had one priority: get the hell out of here.

I searched the bathroom cabinets and found a pair of jogging pants.

They were too big, but I tightened the drawstrings and made do.

When I stepped back into the room, my eyes darted to the closed door.

What was my situation here? Was I a hostage? A mate? The thought churned my stomach again.

Yet… something about the memory of that voice, that touch, stirred something else inside me.

Something dangerous. Something possessive.

Snap out of it, Blake. I had to focus. First things first: shoes. I couldn’t traverse the forest barefoot, especially in this condition.

Weapons were another priority. There had to be something I could use in this cabin.

Knives, maybe? It wasn’t ideal, but I’d take whatever I could find.

I edged out of the room, wincing as the door creaked. The cabin was quiet.

No sign of anyone—yet. The kitchen was small, just a few feet away. I found a cleaver, not much, but better than nothing.

Then, by the front door, a pair of boots—again too big, but I shoved my feet into them anyway. Better oversized than nothing at all.

I exhaled softly, testing the handle of the front door. It turned with ease. I stepped outside, into the crisp, forest air.

That’s when I saw him. Sitting on the porch, casually, as if he had all the time in the world, was a man.

He was striking, in a way that sent an involuntary shiver through me.

Dark hair, muscular frame, and a face that was almost… too perfect.

His eyes, however, were what caught me—intense, piercing, like they could see straight through me.

For a second, I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. Was this the one who…?

“You’re awake,” the man said, his voice deep, steady. He didn’t move, just watched me with those unnerving eyes. “You shouldn’t be up and about so soon.”

My hand gripped the cleaver tighter, though I doubted it would do much good.

He didn’t seem threatened by it. In fact, the way his gaze lingered on me, there was almost a... possessiveness in his expression.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice sounding a little more strained than I intended. “What did you do to me?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering how much to tell me.

“I saved your life. Those rogues... they would’ve killed you. Torn you apart,” he said.

I swallowed hard, the memory of the wolves flashing in my mind.

“And the mark?” I pressed, my fingers brushing against the bite again. I needed answers.

His expression darkened for a moment, something unreadable passing through his eyes.

“That… was the only way to save you,” he said.

My stomach dropped. I knew what that meant, but hearing it confirmed sent a wave of nausea rolling through me again.

“You… you marked me.” My voice cracked on the words.

He stood then, moving with a predator’s grace.

“Yes.” He took a step closer, and I instinctively stepped back, though part of me didn’t want to. “You’re mine now.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I shook my head, backing up until I was pressed against the doorframe.

“I’m a hunter. You don’t mark hunters. It’s… it’s insane,” I whispered, my voice trembling with disbelief.

A low growl rumbled from his chest, deep and dangerous. His gaze bore into me with such intensity that I couldn’t help but flinch.

“It’s done, Blake. You can’t change that,” he said simply, like he was telling me the sky was blue or water was wet.

Infuriating man. No, not a man. A monster. I had to remind myself of that.

He might look human, but I couldn’t forget what he really was.

“How do you know my name?” I demanded, my pulse racing.

Was he some kind of psychic? Did he have access to my thoughts, my memories? The idea scared me senseless.

He smiled, a slow, knowing grin that sent a confusing rush of heat coursing through me, despite the panic clawing at my insides.

“I know a lot about you. And now, so does my beast,” he said.

His words sent a shiver down my spine. His beast. What kind of shifter had I gotten mixed up with?

Not just any average predator, that was for sure.

The primal energy radiating from him, the raw power, made my instincts scream at me to run, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate.

Flashes of memories returned. I remembered the blood, the pain, and him.

That soft, shadowed face leaning over me. And then... those two words I’d whispered to him. Thank you.

I flushed with embarrassment. I had actually thanked him for saving my life.

I prayed he didn’t remember, but despite not knowing him that well yet, I had a feeling he wouldn’t let something like that go.

I was in far deeper than I’d ever been before.

This wasn’t just about surviving a battle anymore—there was a dangerous connection between us now.

I could feel it, a pull that stretched across the space between us like a living, breathing thing, heat sparking along invisible threads.

It was too intense, too overwhelming. My breath came in shallow gasps as I realized that the danger wasn’t just external.

It was inside me, too.

I swallowed hard, trying to focus. We’d been taught as hunters that shifters, vampires, and anything supernatural didn’t have souls.

They were threats to humanity, creatures to be eliminated.

My world had always been clear-cut, black and white, until now. Until him.

Now, everything felt grey, murky, like I was balancing on the edge of a cliff and the ground beneath me was crumbling.

“That was a joke,” he said dryly, his voice pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. “I took a peek at your driver’s license.”

The absurdity of it hit me, and for a split second, I almost laughed.

This dangerous, terrifying man—no, predatory shifter—was making a joke.

“I don’t even know your name,” I whispered, needing something, anything, to make this situation feel less like I was losing control of my entire life.

“It’s Samuel,” he said as he rose slowly to his feet.

Samuel? Somehow, that name suited him.

He moved with the grace of a predator, every motion controlled, deliberate.

Samuel slid his hands into the pockets of his jogging pants, the same ones I realized matched the clothes I was wearing.

Clothes that, for some insane reason, smelled comforting to me. Ash and coffee.

No. That was the mark, the mating bond, messing with my head, right? It had to be.

I couldn’t be this attracted to someone I just met.

“So,” Samuel drawled, his voice a lazy rumble. “What are you intending to do with that knife?”

I blinked, realizing I still had the cleaver clenched in my hand. My fingers ached from gripping it so tightly.

What was I intending to do? Could I even fight him? The heat between us, the strange connection, made my thoughts blur.

Part of me screamed to strike, to defend myself, but another part—the part influenced by whatever he’d done to me—wanted to drop the weapon entirely and… trust him.

That part went against everything I believed in as a hunter.

“I…” I faltered, my voice shaking. “I’ll leave. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this, about you. I’ll disappear, I swear.”

I sounded like a coward, but what else was there to do?

Samuel’s eyes narrowed slightly, the gold flecks in his irises catching the light.

“You think I’ll let you leave now? After what happened?”

His words were soft, but there was an undercurrent of steel beneath them.

I felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch, pressing down on me, rooting me to the spot.

My heart raced, pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest.

“You don’t have a choice, Blake.” His voice lowered, growing more possessive, almost… primal. “You’re mine now.”

My stomach dropped. Mine.

The word echoed in my mind, sending another rush of fear—and something else, something dangerous—coursing through me.

I had never belonged to anyone before. The very idea of it was foreign, unsettling.

Yet, in the darkest corners of my thoughts, during my rare days off from the Guild, I’d sometimes wondered what it would be like.

To be someone’s. To feel that kind of connection, that intensity.

Shifters mated for life, I recalled. It was one of the first lessons we were taught about their kind—an unbreakable bond that lasted until death.

When I was younger, before I was fully entrenched in the life of a hunter, I’d secretly thought that was... romantic.

The idea of finding someone you were destined to be with, a bond so deep it couldn’t be severed.

I only ever shared that with Finn. We’d been drinking one night, just the two of us, after a particularly brutal hunt.

I’d let my guard down, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Finn had agreed with me, though he’d been quiet about it, like he was admitting something he shouldn’t.

We never spoke of that conversation again, not to each other, and certainly not to Finn’s brothers or any of the other hunters.

That kind of talk would’ve been dangerous, seen as a sign of weakness. And weakness wasn’t tolerated in our world.

But now, standing here in front of Samuel, those fleeting thoughts seemed like a cruel joke.

I wasn’t some na?ve kid anymore. I was a hunter. And this wasn’t some romantic fantasy—it was real. Too real.

Get yourself together, I reminded myself.

“You don’t own me,” I said, but my voice cracked, betraying the panic rising inside me.

He took a step closer, and despite myself, I couldn’t move.

“This isn’t about ownership,” he murmured, his voice like velvet. “It’s about survival. You would’ve died, Blake. I saved you. The bond saved you.”

“That doesn’t mean I belong to you!” I shouted, though my voice sounded weak, even to my own ears.

Samuel’s expression softened for a fraction of a second, almost as if he pitied me.

“You don’t understand yet. But you will,” he said with such smugness I didn’t know whether to punch him or…kiss him.

I wanted to argue, to scream at him that he had no right to decide my fate.

But as I looked into his eyes, something inside me faltered. There was power there, yes, but there was also something else.

Something that scared me even more than his strength.

There was want.

And even worse, I realized with a sickening twist in my gut, that same want was reflected somewhere deep inside me.

This was real. I was bound to him in a way I couldn’t break.

No matter how much I wanted to, no matter how much I fought, there was no undoing the mark on my neck.

Samuel watched me in silence, as if waiting for me to understand. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle but firm.

“You’re not leaving, Blake. You can try. I’m not stopping you, because you’re not my captive. But you won’t go far. Eventually, you’ll come crawling back to me,” he said... and then some part of me knew he was right.