Chapter 3.:

“Marcus. Call me Marcus.” He is telling her. Ariana giggles. She forgets his name. Among the girls, they were always calling him a Lycan king or his highness. No commoner would ever call the king by his given name, yet he gave her the privilege.

“Marcus.” She repeats his name. The sound of his name tingles her on the tip of her tongue, which makes her giggle even more. He likes the sound of the bells when she smiles, but he said nothing to praise it. Instead, he picks her up bridal style and carries her through the garden into the castle. No one stops them. No one is looking for them in the hallway or in the garden. They just vanished from the evening with no one noticing.

Marcus brings Ariana to one of the many bedrooms in the castle. Away from the dance hall, away from everyone. It is just the two of them.

“Can you turn off the light?” Ariana asked him shyly. She hadn’t been with a man before, and although she partly knew what to expect, she wasn’t entirely prepared for what was going to happen. Marcus doesn’t care about the light. He dims the light, since he doesn’t need them to see, anyway. He sees in the night the same as during the day. His Lycan’s eyes offered him the perfect eyesight.

He crosses the distance between them, unzipping the dress on her back. The strapless vintage dress falls on the ground with a silent thud, unraveling her pure beauty. She wears no bra since her dress can’t cover it. Once the dress falls on the ground, she stands in front of him, only in her silky panties.

“Don’t hide!” He orders when Ariana’s hands automatically shoot up to her chest, trying to cover her breasts. His tone left no room for argument and his Lycan voice literally forced her to reveal herself to him. He stands there, watching her soft pale skin shining in the night lights. She looked beautiful, but not as beautiful as the dozen other girls he had had during the last week. He cares little about her feelings. A young silly girl who came into the castle with her childish dream of being a queen. What does it matter if she is his mate?

He places her on a soft and boneless bed, gripping the delicate wrist of a girl. With a simple snap of his hand, he could break those two hands. With his head buried in her smooth and tender neck, he lay on top of her. The girl beneath him clenches her hands into fists, almost crying from the pain of her first time. Her meticulously trimmed and maintained nails sink deeply into his back, leaving behind fresh red blood stains which almost instantly healed, just for her to leave marks on his back once again.

Marcus doesn’t care about her pain. A night of back and forth giving and taking, the bright red mark on the bedding, signifies her transformation from a girl to a woman.

Ariana woke up in the morning alone in the room. The maid knocks on the door before she enters. As ordered, she brings fresh water, food and a set of new clothes for Ariana. Ariana briefly refreshes herself, hoping she can join Marcus for breakfast, but once Ariana puts on her clothes and eats a few bites from the tray with the food, the maid leads her out of the castle and into the prepared carriage, leaving Ariana utterly confused. She thought she would stay in the castle by her mate’s side, but he sent her back home.

“Where have you been?” Ariana’s mother asks the moment she opens the door and enters the house with tears in her eyes. Daria stops herself from scolding her daughter. She knows exactly where she was the entire night. There is only one place where she could stay the whole night and come back in entirely different attire.

“He sent me home.” Ariana whispered in between her sobs. She can’t understand why she is back home. He belongs to her. She should stay by his side and not at home, away from her mate. He doesn’t want her or what happened? Her mind can’t process the pain of her broken heart. This isn’t the story she hoped for. This isn’t the mate she waited for.

“Did he hurt you?” Daria wanted to know. The illusion of her daughter being intact while spending the night in the castle went through the roof the moment he came to pick her up for the dance. At least, she comes home in the morning, and it seems except for her broken heart, nothing else suffered any injuries.

“No,” Ariana answers her, with the tears rolling down her cheeks. Almost instantly, she dries her tears and concludes her following steps. She plans to return to the castle and have a talk with her mate. He felt it. Ariana knows he felt the same pull towards her. She read it in his eyes when they locked their gazes yesterday. At least, he owes her an explanation, or maybe all this is just a misunderstanding, and the maid shouldn’t have sent her back home.