DARKNESS, the second instalment in the Marked Series.
Won first place in the SNOWFLAKE AWARDS Werewolf category!
UNDISCOVERED WOLVES Book of the Month, April 2018!
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'There is a darkness within you, Isa. I saw it then, and I see it now.'
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My reflection had always scared me.
It wasn't because I thought myself ugly. I knew I wasn't the archetypal beauty—instead of long, blonde locks I had short brown hair that brushed past my jaw in unruly curls—but with my green eyes, I knew that I was moderately pretty.
No. My natural features didn't perturb me in the slightest. What scared me was the mark that rested between my neck and collarbone.
It was a small thing, really— something you wouldn't notice at first glance—but it frightened me. It was an inked illustration of a wolf— one that was howling at the nape of my neck, worshipping my skin.
Occasionally, at the most inconvenient of times, it would erupt. The ink became acid, eating into skin. And then, just as quickly as the pain had arrived, it would dissolve, and in its wake only confusion remained.
At first my father did nothing. After all, it was just a little pain which, as far as he was concerned, allowed me to develop as a Huntress. But soon the irritation was full-fledged agony and he had to do something, for I was unable to train and instead spent my days screaming in pain. He had a team of medical professionals look for a cure and, after many failed attempts, they eventually found it in silver. It was ironic, really.
What killed werewolves, healed me.
"You ready, Isa?"
My best friend's voice was muffled by the door. I whirled around, reverie shattered, and pulled the discarded top across my chest.
"If you count being half naked as being ready, then yes." I bit back.
He paused, as if contemplating an acceptable answer, and then continued, his voice as cheery as ever. "It depends on the situation, really. If we're discussing sex, then-"
"Ares!" I shrieked, covering my ears. "Stop!"
His laugh shortly followed. I sighed, shaking my head, and continued to dress myself in a flurry of movement. Eventually, after many inelegant trips and some pained groans, I managed to struggle into a black camisole, a pair of black leggings, and my faded combat boots.
"In all seriousness, Isa, the Council is waiting on you."
I swung the door open, allowing a small grimace to tug at my lips. The Council, it seemed, was always waiting on me. Every mistake I made- every mission I declined was brought to their attention.
"Can't they wait a little longer?" I asked, gesturing to the bobble on my wrist. "I've not done my hair."
Ares grinned, taking an unruly strand between his forefinger and thumb. "Good luck with that."
