Chapter 51 Her Mark
Aelira’s POV
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As our vehicle nears the vast stone edifice of the Briarhallow family estate,
I feel my stomach twist with anxiety. The formidable building seems to loom larger with each heartbeat.
“We’ve arrived,” Thomas cheerfully declares, halting the SUV in front of the
broad stone stairs.
I
I find myself clutching Daelor’s hand without meaning to. His silver–gray eyes lock onto mine, and he offers a reassuring smile.
“Don’t fret,” he murmurs. “My grandmother is looking forward to seeing you
again.”
Thomas leaps out and dramatically opens my door. “Welcome to the
Briarhallow abode, sister–in–law!”
“Stop referring to her that way,” Daelor responds with a growl, though his voice lacks real ire. “We’re not officially mated yet.”
Yet? The casual suggestion sends a thrilling sensation through my chest.
“Details, details,” Thomas dismisses with a wave. “I can assure you,
Grandmother’s already imagining the ceremony in her mind.”
My wolf stirs uneasily within, acutely aware of the powerful presences
around us. The Briarhallows
ren’t merely any werclan; they are almost like royalty among werewolves. Here I stand, pregnant with another
Alpha’s child, assuming the role of Daelor’s future mate.
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What have I gotten myself into?
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As we ascend the stairs, Daelor’s hand rests against the small of my back. -warm and oddly comforting.
“Just be yourself,” he whispers. “They will adore you.”
I seriously doubt that, though I nod anyway.
Before we reach the enormous wooden doors, they swing open. Standing
in the entrance is a tall, graceful woman with perfectly coiffed dark hair
bearing streaks of silver. She holds herself with military–like poise, alert
and unwavering. The striking gray eyes of the Briarhallow family scrutinize
me intently.
“Daelor,” she greets with warmth, embracing him momentarily. “You’ve finally chosen to bless us with your presence.”
“Jennifer,” Daelor responds with a respectful nod. “You remember I
mentioned bringing someone special today.”
Jennifer Briarhallow’s sharp gaze evaluates me, noting everything from my
emerald dress to my fidgeting hands.
“This must be your little healer,” she observes, her demeanor softening a
bit. “We’ve heard so much about you, dear.”
I
Although her tone is cordial, I detect an undercurrent of wariness in her
words. My wolf grows tense, aware of the subtle scrutiny.
A tall, broad man steps up beside her, mirroring Daelor’s demeanor but
with a more aged face. “Maelor Briarhallow,” he introduces himself with a
slight bow. “Jennifer’s mate and Daelor’s uncle.”
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Before I can respond, an elderly woman, small in stature, shuffles past both of them. Her silver hair is elegantly styled, despite her advanced
years. Deep creases map her face, yet her silver–gray eyes–so similar to
Daelor’s–sparkle with vitality and wit.
“So this is the she–wolf who saved my life!” she exclaims, reaching for my
hands. “Come here, child; let me take a good look at you.”
Her grip is surprisingly firm as she draws me closer, inspecting me with
her piercing Briarhallow gaze. My heart races under her careful
examination.
“It’s a privilege to meet you properly, Mrs. Briarhallow,” I attempt to keep
my voice steady.
“Elowen, please,” she urges, patting my hand. “You are virtually family
now.”
My face flushes at her assumption. If only she understood the reality.
“Come on now, we shouldn’t linger in the hallway,” Elowen insists, pulling
me inside with surprising force for someone her age. “I’ve brewed tea in
the solarium.”
She links her arm through mine, nearly dragging me along. I cast a
pleading glance at Daelor, who follows us with an amused expression.
–
The interior of the Briarhallow estate is even more magnificent than the
outside – soaring ceilings adorned with intricate woodwork, artwork likely
worth a fortune, and everywhere, subtle hints of the pack’s influence and
legacy.
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“Your home is stunning,” I remark, feeling woefully out of place in such an
opulent setting.
“It has belonged to the family for generations,” Elowen responds with pride.
“One day, it will be Daelor’s to share with his Luna.”
Her significant look between Daelor and me causes a flutter in my
stomach. This façade is becoming increasingly intricate.
The solarium is a sunlit space with glass walls that overlook exquisitely
maintained gardens. Lush plants flourish everywhere, giving it the vibe of
an opulent greenhouse.
V
“Now then,” Elowen states after we settle into plush sofas and tea is
served in delicate silver–rimmed cups, “tell me how long you two have been
a couple. Daelor has been frustratingly vague.”
Daelor and I share a brief glance. We had practiced this segment.
“About a month,” I reply, striving to sound relaxed. “But we’ve known each
other since university.”
Elowen nods with understanding. “I remember asking him to bring you to
visit after that incident at the territorial gathering. Three years I’ve been
waiting! Can you believe how stubborn my grandson can be?”
I gaze at Daelor in astonishment. He had never mentioned that his
grandmother wanted to meet me all those years ago.
“I wasn’t prepared back then,” Daelor states plainly, his hand finding mine
on the sofa.
His fingers weave with mine, sending warmth up my arm that is not solely
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< Chapter 51 Her Mark
from the sunlight filtering through the windows.
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Jennifer serves the tea, her movements precise and graceful. “Daelor
faced significant challenges from his father when he left the elite security
operations,” she comments casually. “He was on a path to promotion,
wasn’t he?”
My heart sinks. I hadn’t been aware that Daelor had sacrificed a promotion
to assist me with severing my mate bond. The realization strikes me like a
physical blow.
My wolf whines inside me, troubled by the difficulties I have caused him.
We’ve cost him so much, and for what? A fabricated relationship to deceive
his family?
Daelor’s eyes flash with intensity. “Jennifer,” he growls, his voice a warning
that makes everyone in the room tense.
“What? It’s the truth,” Jennifer persists, seemingly unaware of his irritation.
“You were set to lead the Northern Territory’s unified security force. Your
father was furious when you decided to walk away.”
The atmosphere in the room grows thick with tension. I feel as though I
can barely breathe.
“My father is always angry about something,” Daelor responds
dismissively. “Besides, I had my reasons.
Η
**
His gaze turns to me, something intense and unreadable in his silver–gray
eyes. That look accelerates my heartbeat.
“Aelira is worth it,” he declares resolutely. “She is my intended mate.”
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That proclamation sends a shiver racing down my spine, despite knowing it is part of our ruse. Yet something in his tone, the certainty in his voice,
feels undeniably genuine.
Elowen’s joyful growl of approval catches me off guard. She claps her hands together, her face glowing with evident delight as she looks back
and forth between us.
“At last, it seems you’ve found someone deserving, my boy,” she proclaims, her gray eyes shimmering with mischief. “And she’s a healer, too! The pack will be overjoyed.”
Jennifer appears taken aback by this exuberant reaction. “Mother Elowen,
perhaps it would be wise to get to know Aelira better first?”
Though her voice maintains politeness, there is a hint of skepticism woven
through her words. I can sense her evaluating me, finding me insufficient.
Elowen dismisses the idea with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense! I
recognized her uniqueness the instant she came to my aid, even without knowing my identity. That’s true character.”
Her praise makes my cheeks flush. Guilt tugs at my insides; the deceit
feels morally wrong, especially in the presence of Elowen’s sincere
kindness.
“So,” Jennifer breaks the silence after a moment, lifting her teacup with
practiced elegance, “when do you intend to hold the marking ceremony?”
The atmosphere becomes still. Marking is the initial formal step toward
mating–an open declaration of intention nearly as solemn as the mating ceremony itself. It involves the Alpha leaving a mark on his chosen mate,
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usually a bite at the neck and shoulder junction.
I freeze, my teacup poised midway to my mouth, my heart drumming loudly
enough that I’m certain everyone can hear it.
Thoughts race through my mind. How long will this pretense last? What if
his family anticipates a marking ceremony soon?
In that moment, I feel utterly out of place within this impressive room,
surrounded by the powerful Briarhallow family, their distinctive silver–gray
eyes and regal demeanor glaring down at me.
This whole scenario has evolved from a simple mix–up–Daelor’s kindness
in assisting me with the severance of my bond to Alarion.
Oriana had misconstrued those gestures as romantic interest, constantly
teasing me about it. Now, I find myself deceitfully acting as Daelor’s
intended mate to appease his grandmother.
Seated in the Briarhallow family estate, I finally grasp the extent of that
misunderstanding.
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