Page 118 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
I need to end this. Now.
Mathew charges again, putting all his enhanced strength behind a haymaker that could crush my skull if it connects. Instead of dodging, I dart inside his reach, going for his throat again—but this time, I shift partially back to human form at the last second.
My human hands grip his throat while my partially shifted jaw delivers a bite that no human could survive. The taste of his artificial blood fills my mouth, unnatural and wrong, but I hold on as he thrashes and claws at me.
His enhanced strength means nothing if he can’t breathe, however. His struggles grow weaker, more frantic. The glow in his eyes begins to fade as whatever chemicals he injected into himself start to fail along with his oxygen supply.
“Impossible,” he gurgles, his voice barely recognizable. “I was…superior…”
He goes limp in my grip, his artificially enhanced form already beginning to revert as the chemicals leave his system. I release him and let his body fall, turning toward Erik.
He’s so pale. Too pale. The blood loss is catastrophic, and I can feel through our bond that his wolf is barely alive now, weakened beyond recovery by the poison they injected him with.
I shift fully back to human form and drop to my knees beside him, my hands immediately going to the wound in his abdomen. The bleeding is slowing, but only because he doesn’t have much left to lose.
“Erik,” I whisper, cradling his head in my lap. “Stay with me. Please.”
His eyes open slowly, focusing on me with difficulty. “Fiona.” My name is barely a murmur. “You’re s–safe.”
“We’re both safe,” I tell him, though I can feel the lie in my bones. He’s dying, and I don’t know how to stop it.
“The bond,” he whispers, his hand finding mine with trembling fingers. “I can f–feel you again. Your wolf.”
“She’s here,” I confirm, tears streaming down my face. “We’re here. Both of us. And we’re not letting you go.”
Through our connection, I can feel what he’s experiencing—the poison burning through his system, separating him from his wolf, weakening the very core of what he is. But I can also feel something else. The mating bond, fully awakened now, is trying to stabilize him, using my strength to bolster his failing systems.
It’s not enough. The bond can provide support, but it can’t undo the damage already done.
Unless...
The mark. The mating mark that Leanna mentioned, that Maya researched. It doesn’t just signify a bond—it completes it, creating a permanent connection that allows mates to share not just emotions and sensations, but life force itself.
I’ve never received a mating mark, nor have I ever given one. But my wolf knows what to do, her instincts guiding me as I lean down toward Erik’s throat.
“What are you doing?” he asks weakly, but I can feel through our bond that he already knows.
“Saving you,” I reply simply.
I don’t give him a chance to argue. My teeth find the perfect spot at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and I bite down firmly but gently, marking him as mine in the most primal way possible.
The effect is instant and uncontainable. Power flows between us—not just my strength supporting his weakness, but something deeper. A fundamental connection that makes us more than the sum of our parts.
I feel his wolf stir, drawing strength from mine. The poison in his system doesn’t disappear, but my immune system begins fighting it through our bond, neutralizing its effects molecule by molecule.
When I pull back, there’s blood on my lips and a perfect mark on his throat: a bite that will heal into a permanent scar, marking him as mine for all the world to see.
Erik’s eyes are already clearer, his breathing stronger. “Fiona...”
I hear footsteps, and my head lifts up in alarm, but the men who storm in, covered in blood, are wearing uniforms I remember well from the palace.
“A healer!” I say quickly. “We need a healer!”
“Commander!” The lead soldier immediately takes charge, scanning the scene. “Get a med team in here now!”
Two soldiers move to Erik while others secure the perimeter. I hover beside them as they assess his injuries, my newly heightened senses picking up every detail—his sluggish heartbeat, the chemical scent of poison still in his bloodstream, the way his wolf is struggling to respond to its own healing powers.
“The mark,” one of the soldiers says, noticing the fresh bite on Erik’s throat. “It’s stabilizing him.”
