Sweet Lies

Lyra's POV

The whip cracked across my back and I bit my tongue to keep from yelling.

"Faster, slave!" Guard Thompson shouted. "Those tunnels won't clean themselves!"

I scrubbed the mine walls harder, my arms shaking from fatigue. The cut on my back burned like fire, but I couldn't stop. Not when the other slaves were watching. Not when I had to be strong.

But inside my head, I kept thinking about Marcus and the warm necklace around my throat. Every few minutes, I would touch it through my dirty shirt and remember his smile. His words kept playing over and over in my mind: "You're my mate. You're everything."

Nobody had ever called me everything before.

"Lyra!" another slave whispered anxiously. "Thompson's coming back!"

I quickly dunked my scrub brush in the bucket of soapy water and got back to work. But my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the brush. All day long, I'd been thinking about tonight. About meeting Marcus behind the old oak tree.

What if he changed his mind? What if he decided I wasn't good enough after all?

The hours crawled by like wounded animals. Finally, when the sun disappeared and the work bell rang, I ran to the old oak tree faster than I'd ever run before.

Marcus was already waiting for me.

He looked even more handsome in the moonlight, resting against the tree trunk with his arms crossed. When he saw me running toward him, he pushed off from the tree and opened his arms wide.

I threw myself into his hug without thinking. His arms wrapped around me tight, and for the first time in my whole life, I felt safe.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," I whispered into his chest.

"Why would you think that?" he asked, touching my hair.

"Because I'm just a slave. Because I'm nobody important."

Marcus pulled back and looked into my eyes. "Lyra, listen to me. You are the most important person in my life. Do you understand?"

I nodded, but tears were starting to fill my eyes. "Then why do we have to hide? Why can't you tell everyone that we're mates?"

Marcus's face got serious. He took my hands in his and squeezed them gently.

"Because the world is cruel to people like us," he said softly. "If the Alpha finds out that his Beta is mated to a slave, he'll punish both of us. He might even kill you."

My blood turned to ice water. "Kill me?"

"The pack has rules, Lyra. Strict rules about who can mate with who. If they knew about our bond..." He shook his head sadly. "I can't lose you. Not when I just found you."

I understood then. Marcus wasn't ashamed of me. He was protecting me. The warm feeling in my chest grew stronger.

"What do we do?" I asked.

"We wait," Marcus said. "I'm working on a plan to change things. To make it so we can be together freely. But until then, we have to keep our bond hidden."

He cupped my face in his hands. "Can you do that for me? Can you be patient?"

I would have waited forever for him. "Yes."

Marcus smiled, and it was like the sun coming out after a storm. "I knew you'd understand. That's why you're perfect for me."

He leaned down and kissed me softly. The chain at my throat grew so warm it almost burned, but I didn't care. This was my first kiss, and it was with my mate. Nothing else mattered.

When we broke apart, Marcus was breathing hard. "We should sit down," he said. "I want to tell you more about our bond."

We sat on the soft grass beneath the oak tree. Marcus kept holding my hand, and I felt like I was floating on air.

"The chain I gave you," he said, "it's very old. Very strong. It was made by the first werewolves to help mates find each other."

"It feels warm," I said, touching it with my free hand.

"That's because it's related to your heart. To your soul." Marcus's thumb rubbed across my fingers. "But it also makes you vulnerable."

"What do you mean?"

Marcus looked around uncomfortably, like he was afraid someone might be listening. "There are bad dogs out there, Lyra. Wolves who hunt for special ties like ours. They would hurt you to get to me."

Fear crept up my spine like a cold spider. "What kind of bad wolves?" "Rogues. Witches. Dark creatures who feed on the power between mates." Marcus's grip on my hand got tighter. "That's another reason we have to be careful. If word gets out about what you are, about what we share..."

"They'll come for me," I finished quietly.

"I won't let that happen," Marcus said furiously. "I'll protect you with my life."

Hearing those words made my heart feel like it might burst with happiness. Nobody had ever wanted to protect me before.

"There's something else," Marcus said, digging into his pocket. "Something I need to show you."

He pulled out a small silver knife. The blade was sharp and gleamed in the moonlight. Strange symbols were cut into the handle, just like the ones on my necklace.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's a ceremonial blade," Marcus explained. "Used in old mating rites. When two wolves are truly bonded, they share blood to make their relationship stronger."

My heart started beating faster. "You want us to do a blood ritual?"

"Only if you're ready," Marcus said quickly. "Only if you trust me completely."

I stared at the knife in his hand. Part of me was scared, but a bigger part of me was excited. This was proof that Marcus really loved me. That our friendship was real and special.

"I trust you," I said.

Marcus's eyes lit up with joy. "Give me your hand."

I held out my left hand, palm up. Marcus positioned the knife carefully above my hand.

"This might hurt a little," he warned.

"I'm not afraid," I lied.

The blade sliced across my palm in one quick move. I gasped as pain shot up my arm, but I didn't pull away. Blood immediately started flowing from the cut, dripping onto the grass below.

"Perfect," Marcus whispered, and something in his words made me look up at him.

His eyes weren't looking at my face anymore. They were fixed on my bleeding hand with a look I'd never seen before. He looked... hungry.

"Marcus?" I said uncertainly.

He seemed to shake himself awake. "Sorry, I just... the process is very powerful. It affects me too."

He pulled out a small glass bottle from his other pocket and held it under my bleeding palm. "We need to collect some of your blood for the ceremony."

I watched as my blood dripped into the jar, drop by drop. The warm feeling from the chain was getting stronger, but now it felt different. Less comfy. More... pulling.

"How much blood do we need?" I asked as the vial started to fill up.

"Just a little more," Marcus said, but he didn't look at me when he said it.

The vial was almost full now, and I was starting to feel dizzy. My hand was throbbing with pain, and the cut seemed deeper than it should be for a simple rite.

"Marcus, I think that's enough," I said softly.

"Almost done," he answered, still not looking at my face.

That's when I noticed something that made my stomach drop. Marcus wasn't bleeding. If this was meant to be a sharing ritual, where was his blood?

"Wait," I said, trying to pull my hand back. "You're supposed to cut yourself too, right?"

Marcus finally looked up at me, and for just a split second, I saw something in his eyes that made my blood freeze. Something cold and deliberate.

But then he blinked, and the warm, loving face was back.

"Of course," he said easily. "I was just waiting for you to finish first."

He capped the bottle of my blood and slipped it into his pocket. Then he held the knife to his own palm.

But as I watched him ready to cut himself, one terrifying thought echoed through my mind: If Marcus really loved me, why did he look so satisfied when he saw my blood filling up that vial?