Twin Alpha's Black Hearts

Chapter 2 — The Mark

Godiva

His hand was burning against my wrist.

That was the first thing I registered—heat, pulsing through my skin in waves. I tried pulling away, but his grip held me effortlessly, like I weighed nothing more than a stray feather he’d caught midair.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, breath shaky.

The man—if he was even a man—didn’t answer at first. He stepped closer, guiding me into the room with movements too smooth, too controlled. My back hit the wall. My heart hit my throat.

His eyes glowed again. From yellow to burning golden. Alive. Predatory.

A cold shiver rushed through me. “Please…just let me go. I’m only here to deliver food…”

“Godiva,” he murmured, lowering his head until his breath brushed my collar. “You smell exactly the way I knew you would.”

My eyes went wide. “Wh…what does that even mean?”

He inhaled slowly, savoring the moment, and every hair on my arms rose. Goosebumps raced down my spine. He wasn’t touching me, not really but it felt like he was everywhere.

“You’re my mate.”

“I don’t know you.” My voice broke. “You don’t get to say that.”

His gaze sharpened, golden irises narrowing as though he were trying to read something written beneath my skin.

“You don’t have to understand it,” he said smoothly. “You just have to feel it.”

“No, I—”

He moved faster than my eyes could follow.

One moment he stood inches away, the next his hands were at my waist—gentle but unyielding—holding me still like he’d done this a thousand times before.

“Don’t run,” he whispered.

“I’m not…”

He leaned in. His lips grazed the side of my neck.

The world stopped. Then—

Pain.

A white-hot, stabbing shock exploded through my body as sharp teeth sank into my skin. I screamed, fingers clawing at his arm. Heat surged through my veins, wild and fiery, like molten metal replacing my blood.

“Stop…stop!”

His arms tightened as my knees buckled, catching me before I collapsed.

“Ssh,” he murmured against my skin. His voice was low, soothing, infuriatingly steady. “It’s the mark. It will pass. Breathe for me, precious.”

Precious?

My vision wavered. The room blurred. His face was the last clear thing I saw before darkness swallowed my consciousness.

**

When awareness returned, it came slowly, like wading up through thick water.

Soft sheets. A warm blanket. A faint citrus scent floating in the air.

I blinked.

I was lying on a bed that definitely wasn’t mine. The room was spacious, dimly lit, expensive in a way I couldn’t even begin to describe. My temples throbbed. My neck burned.

I shot upright.

He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, watching me with unreadable eyes.

“Good evening, my precious Godiva.”

My stomach lurched. “What—what happened to me? Why am I here?”

“You fainted after the mark,” he said calmly. “You’ve been asleep for twelve hours.”

“Twelve?!” My pulse spiked. “Why didn’t anyone call me? My boss—”

“I asked him not to.”

“You WHAT—?”

His tone remained maddeningly patient. “I needed you safe. That requires control.”

“Control?” I snapped. “You bit me like some wild—” I stopped before saying the word animal, but his faint smirk told me he heard it anyway.

“You were marked,” he said. “It’s irreversible. Painful at first, but you’ll heal in a few days.”

My hand flew to my neck. A bandage. Tender skin beneath it.

Oh God.

“What are you?” I whispered.

He stood.

The way he moved—quiet, powerful, dominate—made my heartbeat trip over itself. He crossed the room in seconds, stopping just close enough that I felt the warmth radiating off him.

“Castor Melucci,” he said. “Alpha of the Moonstone Pack.”

Alpha, that supposed to be…then pack thing…I was pretty sure some kind of group of animal.

Mate. Oh my God…

My brain scrambled for logic that didn’t exist.

“You’re a—”

“Werewolf,” he finished. “Yes.”

I shook my head, backing up until the mattress hit my calves. “No. That’s—no. That’s impossible. You’re insane.”

He didn’t flinch. “Your denial is understandable. But you know it’s real. You felt it.”

“I felt pain.”

“You felt the bond beginning.”

His eyes glowed—subtly, softly, dangerously—and something in my chest clenched. It wasn’t attraction. It wasn’t fear. It was something between the two, tangled and terrifying.

“Why me?” I asked. “Why choose me?”

“I didn’t choose you,” he said quietly. “The Moon Goddess did.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one that matters.”

My breath hitched. The room felt smaller. Warmer. Too warm.

“I want to leave,” I said. “Right now.”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the door.

“You’re free to go, Godiva.”

I blinked.

Just like that?

“But remember,” he added softly, “the mark connects us. You won’t get far before you feel it.”

“Feel what?”

He didn’t answer.

Because the moment I stood, dizziness washed over me—sharp, disorienting, hot. My knees almost buckled. A wave of something unfamiliar tore through my nerves like my body had been rewired.

Castor caught my arm, steadying me before I hit the floor.

“Easy,” he murmured. “Your body is adjusting.”

I jerked my hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

His jaw tightened, the first crack in his otherwise calm expression.

“As you wish, mate.”

“I’m not your—!”

The door clicked open suddenly. A phone vibrated in Castor’s hand. He glanced at the screen.

His face darkened.

“We have a problem.”

He turned to me with an intensity that made my chest squeeze.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

“No.”

His eyes flashed. Alpha. Commanding. Almost dangerous.

“Something is happening near your home,” he said. “I have a patrol watching. There was shouting. Breaking glass. Someone—your kind was hurt.”

My heart dropped.

Aunt Caylee’s voice. Kayleigh’s taunting smirk.

No. No, no, no.

Before he could stop me, I pushed past him and ran for the door.

“Godiva!”

But I didn’t look back.

Because something inside me—something instinctive and sharp and deeply wrong was pulling me toward home.

Toward danger. Toward the place he said the mark would drag me back to.

Castor’s footsteps thundered behind me.

He didn’t try to hold me or force me. He didn’t even drag me back to the bed.

He simply followed, close and unyielding.

“Fine,” he said, voice low. “If you’re going, I’m going with you.”

I turned, breath shaking.

“Why?”

His golden eyes met mine.

“Because you’re mine,” he said simply. “And someone out there just want to hurt what’s mine.”