Mark of Sin: Bound to the Cruel Alpha

"I was working there because I needed money," I hissed, fighting with everything I had to keep my voice from cracking. "Not because I enjoyed it!"

"Doesn’t matter," he cut in ruthlessly. "You are still coming. Because if you don’t walk out of those dorms voluntarily, I’ll come inside and drag you out myself. And trust me, Jane, you will not like how that looks."

The threat hung in the cold morning air, heavy and suffocatingly real. I looked into his slate-gray eyes and knew with horrifying clarity that he wasn’t bluffing. He would do it. And nobody would stop him—because he was Magnus Rainn, heir to an apex lineage, and I was a nobody.

"Why?" I whispered, hating the fragile tremble in my voice. "Why are you doing this?"

He remained silent for a beat, his gaze darkening into something raw, possessive, and infinitely dangerous.

"Because you are mine," he finally stated, every word burning like acid against my skin. "And if anyone is going to see you out in a club, it will be by my side. Where I can control the room."

"You covered the mark!" I threw the words right back in his face, feeling a volatile flare of fury ignite inside me. "You’re ashamed of me! So why the hell do you keep forcing your way into my life?!"

Something shifted across his sharp features. His jaw clenched tight, muscles bunching under the skin, and for a terrifying second, I thought I’d pushed him too far. But instead of snapping, he abruptly stepped back, restoring the distance between us.

"Nine o’clock," he repeated, his tone turning to pure ice. "Wear something decent. Not that cheap trash you wore at the bar."

***

Lectures without Annie were excruciatingly dull. Aside from our philosophy professor, who seemed to take personal pleasure in singling people out, the rest of the faculty couldn’t care less about what we did.

They handed out assignments and spent the rest of the block quietly absorbed in their own work while the rest of us drifted off over our notebooks. It was a pathetic excuse for higher education, honestly, but bits of information still managed to stick. At the end of the day, all I needed was that coveted honors diploma.

With that degree, I’d be eligible for a massive range of positions across various industries. Right then, though, it felt less like university and more like a glorified extension of senior high school.

Sure, a couple of professors actually assigned engaging coursework where you could acquire real-world knowledge. But overall, it felt like an imitation of learning.

I texted Annie several times throughout the day, but my messages went completely unread. She was likely in the middle of her heat cycle and had cleared out for home. She’d been feeling off lately and had mentioned it more than once. Given that she was an awakened Breeder, her instincts always gave her advance warning when a cycle was approaching.

The first couple of heats after awakening were supposedly mild right up until they hit, but each subsequent cycle grew progressively more intense. Though in some cases, a Breeder’s body underwent such a drastic shift during the initial awakening that they could feel the storm brewing days in advance. Anyone who had been through it warned that surviving a heat alone was pure torture.

The second the final bell rang, I packed my things into the new leather backpack. It was infinitely better than my old canvas one—I was genuinely thrilled that the zippers didn’t split open every time I pulled them.

I had been dragging my old backpack around since middle school, hauling heavy textbooks and notebooks for seven periods a day, plus exam prep materials during our senior year. Back then, it felt like I was carrying a ton of bricks on my spine.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I had just lost so much weight back then that I couldn’t even lift a heavy stack of textbooks by myself, leaving dark, tender bruises on my shoulders from the weight of the strap.

Heading into the campus cafeteria, I slipped into my usual corner table, unpacked my prepped meal containers, and started eating while shooting a flurry of texts to Annie. I asked how she was holding up, if everything was okay, and when she was coming back. The messages were delivering, but they sat there, completely unread.

"Are you ignoring me?"

I flinched at the unexpected voice and hastily slid my phone onto the table. Looking up, I found Dean Nyland sitting directly across from me, sprawling over the chair with an easy, relaxed posture while staring right into my eyes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught half the room sneaking glances in our direction. The usual ambient roar of the cafeteria had evaporated into a suffocating, dead silence—as if someone had suddenly hit the mute button on the entire building.

"I’m sorry, what?" I stared, utterly bewildered as to why an heir like him was even sharing a table with me, let alone trying to strike up a conversation.

"Are you deaf? I’ve been trying to talk to you for five minutes, but you’re just sitting there chewing your salad and ignoring me." His tone was smooth and cool, but a flicker of sharp irritation danced in his dark eyes.

I didn’t like the way he positioned his massive frame either—his broad shoulders completely blocked my only exit from the corner booth. How had he managed to glide up and sit down so silently that my instincts hadn’t even registered his approach?

"Sorry, I really didn’t notice. I was just texting my roommate."

"Am I really that small that I can just be overlooked?" He leaned across the table, his dominant pheromones hitting my senses like a sharp, aggressive slap.

I took a quiet, steadying breath. Damn it. What could he possibly want from me? Dean was an impossibly large, heavily built Alpha—broad-shouldered, muscular, and radiating a dark, volatile aura that screamed predator. Everything about him signaled immediate, raw danger.

"No, it’s just... when I’m focused on something, I tend to tune out my surroundings," I offered, desperately trying to de-escalate the rising tension before it snapped. The air around our table was growing thicker by the second, heavy with his dominant pressure. "So... what can I help you with?"

He remained silent for a long beat, measuring me up before speaking.

"I want your phone number."

I blinked in genuine shock. Why on earth would a high-ranking Alpha like Dean Nyland want my number? We hadn’t even been introduced, and I was fairly certain he didn’t even know my name, yet here he was, casually demanding my contact info. A cold, uneasy pit opened in my stomach.

"My number? What for?"

"I want to take you out on a date."

Dean swept a slow, calculating gaze over my face, and right on cue, a sudden wave of shocked, scandalized whispers rippled through the dead-silent cafeteria.