Chapter 3. Marked by Dawn

The great square had not fallen into silence for a single heartbeat. Even after the final figures among the chosen girls dipped their heads in the ritual bow and the herald’s voice rang out, pronouncing the ceremony complete, the very air seemed to tremble with expectation. Torchlight danced on weathered stones, smoke from stacked pines curled in lazy spirals overhead, and the scent of sweat and anticipation mingled with the sweet tang of spilled wine. A thousand pairs of eyes glittered in the night, all fixed upon the raised dais. The crowd wanted more—of course they did; they always wanted more.

Lora felt the hum of those gazes settle at the base of the marble steps. She stood in line with the others, the silken hem of her gown clinging damply to her calves, cold where the night breeze slipped beneath. Her pulse thudded against her ribs like a drum, a fierce reminder of Kai’s unblinking scrutiny and Rael’s distant, haunted stare bouncing around her mind. Somewhere beyond the torchlight, Ayrella lingered near the great temple gate, as still and inscrutable as a carved statue, her pale profile set against the dark.

According to ancient custom, the evening’s formal rites should have ended here. The girls would have been shepherded back through the cavernous halls that led to waiting carriages bound for Elysor, each one escorted by attendants sworn to keep them safe until their private ceremonies at dawn. Those secret markings—meant to bind each girl in silence and shadow—were never meant for public eyes. But when Kai of the Dawn rose from his seat, tradition bent like pliable reed in a river of inevitability.

He lifted himself from the carved stone throne as though he carried the sunrise in his shoulders. The murmurs that rippled through the crowd felt like quickened heartbeats, darting anticipation that electrified the chill air. No Alpha had ever descended the dais after a ceremony—no Alpha left that place of honor for any girl or any cause. Yet Kai strode down the steps with a confidence as smooth and steady as water flowing over polished stone.

Around him, the other girls instinctively retreated, their gowns swishing in nervous retreat as though they might be swept away by the air he displaced. Only Lora remained rooted, her limbs locked in reluctant defiance. She told herself, not entirely secretly, that it was oddly flattering to be the only one too stunned to flee—that her body simply refused the courtesy of fear. Every inch of her skin prickled under his presence, as if the heat of a forge pulsed through the space between them.

When he paused directly in front of her, the ambient noise dropped away until the square felt hollow, as though someone had muted the world. His gaze, pale as polished steel, settled on Lora with unerring aim. With deliberate slowness, he lifted one hand and closed his long, cool fingers around her bare arm. The touch sparked something inside her—an electric thrill that blazed through her veins as sharply as a bolt of lightning across a storm-dark sky.

Lora gasped, a soft, involuntary sound that carried farther than she intended. Kai turned his head toward the gathered crowd, and his voice—when it came—was coldly certain, carrying the weight of decree: “This one will not wait for Elysor. She is mine now.” His words dropped into the square like stones in water, and the hush shattered. Shock rippled into fury, and fury metamorphosed into something like exhilaration, a wave of roaring approval that threatened to knock her off her feet.

He tugged her forward, guiding her into the very center of the open plaza, where twin moons hung low and silver, casting her in a light that made her skin gleam and her damp hair shimmer. Every footstep echoed like the tolling of a bell, and in that moment, Lora became both spectacle and unspoken promise. Her breath came quick, each inhale tasting faintly of smoke and sweat, while the cool fabric of her gown felt impossibly tight against her overheated skin.

With a single, fluid movement, Kai’s hand slid beneath her chin. His thumb pressed gently but inexorably, tilting her head back to expose the pale hollow of her throat. She tried to wrench away, but her muscles seemed to have forgotten how to obey. His breath brushed the nape of her neck, warm and strangely comforting, even as her blood hummed with frantic alarm. “Mine,” he whispered, his voice a soft thunder that nevertheless carried to the farthest spectator.

Then his teeth descended in a flicker of horror and longing. Pain ignited inside her like a bright, searing flame—sharp, disorienting, utterly consuming. She cried out, her spine arching in reflex, her fingers digging into the broad expanse of his chest. The agony deepened, twisting into a molten heat that crept down her back and pooled in her core until her legs wavered and she nearly collapsed.

Holding her upright with effortless strength, Kai leaned forward, his mouth pressed to the tender curve of her throat, drawing her blood into the bond that crackled between them. The world around them spun—torchlight smeared into ribbons of gold, voices muffled into a distant thunder, and her own heartbeat pounding a frantic rhythm she could feel in every hollow of her body. Then he drew back, lips stained a vivid red, eyes shining brighter than any torch.

Where his bite had marked her, a small, pulsing bruise throbbed in time with her racing pulse, as if an echo of his claim now beat in her very veins. At that instant, the crowd’s roar returned with a vengeance—cheers and cries and howls that rattled the stones underfoot as they chanted his name and praised his conquest. Lora, trembling all over, felt the weight of their exultation pressing down, mingling shame and a rush of something she vaguely recognized as longing.

Kai lifted her arm high, as though she were already draped in ceremonial chains, declaring with unshakable pride, “Marked by Dawn. She bears my seal. She belongs to me.” The response that met him was deafening—a tide of voices so fierce it seemed certain to crack the ancient walls. Ayrella’s face, caught in the torchlight’s glow, was carved from alabaster, her expression unreadable save for a flicker of sorrow—or was it warning?—that darted through her dark eyes.

Lora’s vision swam; she wavered on the edge of her own overwhelming sensations. Every breath felt like a caress, every heartbeat a drumbeat in her chest. She thought she should scream, should demand release from this violent claim, yet when Kai finally loosened his grip, she remained rooted to the spot, as though invisible cords bound her in place. The mark at her throat throbbed insistently, tugging her will toward him even as her mind clamored for escape.

Then a low, resonant growl rolled through the square. It vibrated up through stone and bone alike, cutting through the tumult like a knife. All eyes swung to the marble dais where Rael stood, his dark cloak pooling around him like midnight spilled to earth, his fingers clenched so tightly on the rail that faint cracks spidered across the marble beneath. His gaze blazed straight at the wound on Lora’s neck, at the tiny glint of blood marking her as his rival’s prize.

For a single heartbeat, Lora felt herself tilting toward him—toward shadow and promise and something fierce and unspoken. But at that instant Kai’s grip around her waist tightened, drawing her back, anchoring her against him as he leaned in, lips brushing her ear in a voice meant only for her: “You feel it, don’t you? This bond between us. Do not fight it, for you are mine.” The words slid through her like silk, melting into the hunger that churned beneath her ribs.

Her heart thundered, caught between dread and a desire she despised. She longed to wrench free, to flee into the night, but when Kai stepped back at last, she could do nothing more than stand trembling, breathless, and irrevocably marked. All around them, the square erupted once more into triumphant cries, the echoes of his victory reverberating off walls and hearts alike, proclaiming to the night that she—Lora—was his and his alone.