Therrin's POV
The moment Dion disappeared into the forest, Ciaran stepped from the shadows.
He'd watched everything.
Every soft word. Every broken promise. Every plea.
And still, she hadn't told Dion the truth.
That she was already his.
"Touching goodbye," he drawled, stepping into the clearing like he owned the night. "A bit theatrical, though. I half expected a declaration of eternal devotion. Or a sonnet."
Therrin looked up sharply, startled. "Ciaran."
He tilted his head, eyes glowing. "You forgot something, little flame."
"What?"
"The mark." He pointed lazily toward her core. "It cannot be undone."
Her breath caught.
"I felt his resolve," Ciaran continued, circling her slowly like a predator with time to kill. "That fire in his chest. That righteous fury. But it won't save him." His voice dropped, velvet-dagger sharp. "He'll never touch you there again."
Her brows drew together. "Why?"
A slow, wicked smile curled his lips. "Because I left you a gift."
She blinked, confused. "What kind of gift?"
Ciaran lifted his hand — and the shadows shifted behind him, swirling like smoke drawn to something sacred. They slipped between his fingers, wrapping around his knuckles like sentient mist.
They traveled to Therrin, cascading down her skin, down to her core, and plunged in. They slithered inside. Causing her to feel the heat that was starting to build.
"They're inside you now," he said, voice low and intimate. "Guarding the place I claimed. Magic that only I control."
Her breath hitched. "You—"
"They won't harm you," he said, voice laced with a dark tenderness. "But they will stop him. No matter how badly he wants to try." He stepped in closer, brushing his thumb along her jaw. "You gave me permission, remember? In the dream. In the place where truth lives."
She trembled beneath his touch.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You marked me with your heart. I marked you with mine."
Then he kissed her.
Not soft. Not sweet.
It was a claim — brutal, possessive, and deep enough to burn.
His teeth caught her lip, pulling until she gasped. He licked the drop of blood that followed like a vow.
And then — as if summoned by his magic — dark ink spread across her lower abdomen, just above the apex of her hips. A symbol etched in shadows, ancient and binding.
His name.
Ciaran.
Etched like a lock only he could open.
She looked down, stunned. "What did you do?"
He smirked. "Sealed the deal."
Therrin stared at the mark, her fingers hovering just above the skin as if touching it might make it vanish.
It didn't.
The ink shimmered like starlight swallowed in shadow — not flat, not still, but alive. It pulsed faintly with power, like a second heartbeat echoing low in her belly.
"My name," Ciaran murmured, watching her closely, "where only I should ever be."
Her breath trembled in her chest. "You didn't ask."
"I didn't have to," he said, gaze hard. "You invited me in. You begged for the mark, Therrin. You made the choice before you even knew what it would cost."
She looked up at him then, eyes wide — not afraid, but filled with something harder to name. Need. Confusion. Loyalty torn in two.
"I'm not sorry," he added, stepping closer until their bodies nearly touched again. "I won't apologize for taking what's mine. Especially not from him."
She didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Only whispered, "You're not playing fair."
Ciaran smirked, lifting a hand to tangle in the wild mess of her hair. "This was never a fair game, sweetheart. I'm not Dion. I don't wait for permission that already belongs to me."
His voice dropped, rough and raw with desire barely restrained. "You think he'll fight for you now? Let him try. Let him rage and burn and ache with wanting. It won't matter."
He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing her in.
"Because I already own the part of you he wants most."
Her lips parted, but she didn't answer.
Couldn't.
The magic between them hummed louder now, echoing in her bones and under her skin, heavy with ancient vows not easily broken.
"You're still his mate," she said finally, barely a whisper.
Ciaran's expression hardened. "And you're still mine."
His grip tightened slightly in her hair — not enough to hurt, but enough to make her eyes flutter closed.
"Don't forget what you offered me in that dream, Therrin," he whispered against her mouth. "Don't forget who you cried for. Who you let bury himself inside every broken piece of you and seal it with magic older than your bloodline."
A beat passed between them. Then another.
"I can still feel you," he added darkly, voice like velvet dragged over steel. "Even now. Your body remembers me. Your soul hasn't let me go. And your core?" His smile was all teeth. "It's full of me."
Her entire body trembled, and for a moment, the shadows around her flickered — responding to her arousal, her fear, her fractured loyalty.
Then she turned away, breathing hard.
Ciaran didn't stop her.
But his voice followed like smoke.
"You can lie to Dion if you want. But don't lie to yourself."
He took a step back, watching her shoulders rise and fall, watching the invisible war tear through her.
"The mark will stay," he said finally. "Until you beg me to make another."
And then — without another word — Ciaran vanished into the shadows from where he came.