41- Marked No More
POV Lunara Grimwald:
"Good evening, companion. Did you like the dinner I prepared for you?" he asked, his tone full of irony. He held the stem of the wineglass, raised it and brought it to his lips.
Her hands.
Heavens.
His hands were covered in dried blood, the red outlining his fingers and covering the palms like gloves.
Edric looked like a lunatic, a psychopath.
I glanced at the heads and felt my stomach flip. The skin was already pale and colorless, the eyes bulging and whitened. Blood ran from the nose and mouth.
They served as grotesque decoration, prepared especially for the dinner he, ever so romantically, had organized for me. Above them there hung a beautiful, elegant picture on the wall.
I recognized one of the heads. He had a long beard and long hair. I didn’t know his name, but I had seen him with Alessio a few times.
"Do you recognize any of them?" he asked, tilting his chin toward the heads. "They will keep us company during dinner. I wanted the decoration to be… different."
For a second. A mere second, I wavered. I felt a strong impulse to run and go back to the bedroom, but I didn’t give in. I stood firm in my plan to confront him, although he frightened me.
With heavy steps I crossed to the chair at the other end of the table. Edric whistled a tune, distracted. I recognized the melody — it was the same one his pack had sung days before.
I pulled the backrest and sat down. My movements were stiffer than usual.
He picked up a fork and speared a piece of smoked sausage, bringing it to his lips and chewing. I glanced at the heads, then back at him, and felt like I would be sick.
How could he act naturally, eating and drinking, when two males lay decapitated a few meters away?
The smell of death was already present. It was faint compared to others, but it was there.
I breathed in deeply, swallowing the air through my mouth, and sat up in the chair.
"Why did you do this?" I asked, sitting straight and stiff against the wooden back.
He rested his elbows on the table and grabbed a cloth napkin. He rubbed the fabric over his dirty hands, removing some of the excess blood that covered them. He finished chewing the smoked sausage calmly, as if nothing absurd or out of the ordinary were happening, and fixed his eyes on me for the first time.
It was clear the moment he noticed the absence of the mark. The golden tone assumed its color, fading and returning to its natural blue before shining again. It was as if it were in conflict with his wolf. He inhaled, flaring his nostrils and smelling the scent of blood on me, realizing that my scent was no longer as pronounced.
"What did you do?" he hissed, his voice hoarse and rough, almost sounding supernatural.
I pulled the napkin and placed it across my lap, trying to act with the same nonchalance as he.
"I did what should have been done a long time ago."
For a second he said absolutely nothing. He stared at me without blinking, his chest rising and falling in rapid successions, his fingers clenched around the cloth, white from the pressure.
"I'll ask only once more, Lunara. What was it that you—"
I raised my eyes, looking at him through thick lashes.
"Apparently, my wolf doesn't find you worthy enough. And to be honest, neither do I. I want the ritual, Edric. That won't change."
He slammed a fist on the table, making the glasses and cutlery clink with the force of the blow.
"How dare you remove my mark?" he shouted.
I shrugged and reached for the wineglass, pulling it toward me. I couldn't get food into my stomach with the sight of those decapitated heads, but at least I could drink a little.
My throat was dry from nerves, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
"You have no right to both of us. You are not a worthy mate. Alphas take care of their omegas, providing everything they need. You do not do that."
His eyes darted to my neck. His wolf seemed furious, about to lose control, while he, as a man, looked offended by the affront.
He pressed his temples and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
"I will bite every inch of your body, Lunara," he promised in a sigh. "Then I want to see how your offended wolf plans to remove all the marks."
"You will never touch me again," I cut in, taking a long sip of the wine.
He opened his eyes and stared at me.
"I still can't believe you had the audacity to do this."
"Having pups is one of my desires, which I will not give up. If you cannot be a provider, I will find another male who is available to be one. Although we are mated, nothing prevents me from sleeping with another, and your claim on my neck would only get in the way of my plans."
He rose, sliding the chair back as he moved.
He leaned over the table, palms flat on the surface.
"I'm at my limit, little wolf. I suggest you stop playing with me."
"This is not a game. I want to be free, Edric. Free from you and everything you represent."
"You know it's impossible to remove the mark."
"No, it's not impossible. It's very possible, in fact," I protested.
"I cannot and will not die. I have an entire pack that counts on me and depends on me."
"Then you can add another problem to your long list."
"And what is that?" he raised an eyebrow, incisive.
"Me," I stated, lifting my jaw defiantly.
A half-smile curved his lips and a feral gleam appeared in his gaze.
"You're not a problem, just a small, silly, irrelevant headache."
I smiled back and raised a finger in warning.
"Actually, I used to be."
"Used to?" he nodded.
"Because now I'm about to become much more than a headache — a migraine, I'd say."
Running from him while we were still mated would be foolish. I could hardly make it to the city before he put his claws on me.