Running with Rogues

CHAPTER 24 - THE MARK

Helllooo again. Luna of Rogues is about to hit half a million reads (THANK YOU, LOVE YOU ALL) and I've now finished exams so you get a super long chapter to make up for the mini-hiatus and to say thanks properly :)

"No, of course we're not going to make you mark her," Aunt Fion scoffed. "Sit down, would you? I'm not even sure why you're here."

"Oh," Liam said. He parked himself in one of the camp chairs and shrugged at me. "I can ... leave, if you want?"

I shook my head. I needed some degree of moral support for whatever the hell was going on here. Scratching the back of my neck, I levelled a weary look at my aunt. "If he's not doing it, then ... who is going to mark me?"

She glanced up at me and smiled. "I am."

Oh, Goddess. Liam broke into a coughing fit which sounded suspiciously like laughter. Myself, now ... I was closer to confused than amused, and I was sure it showed. My jaw was hanging slightly agape, my eyes darting around with near fervent alarm.

"No, not like that, Eva," she sighed. "I'm doing it manually."

"Manually?"

"Manually."

She held up a scalpel to illustrate the word, and I took a series of very quick steps backwards. The laughter had died in Liam's throat. He was now wincing on my behalf, for all the good it would do me. I'd agreed to this shit without thinking it through or doing the proper research, apparently, and now I'd pay the price.

Fion set the scalpel down again and showed me her palms in an attempt at placation. "I'm going to level with you, pup. No one's ever done this artificially before. I'm not entirely how it'll affect you."

I made a face. What the hell was that supposed to mean? If you were marked before you found your mate, you never found your mate. I knew that much. Would this count? Would I lose my soulmate virginity to a scalpel?

"It's not too late to back out, Eva," she told me cautiously.

"No, no. Screw it. Mark away," I said, pulling my shirt off. Liam couldn't go alone or, Goddess forbid, with some strange girl he didn't even know. The afternoon air was cold against my bare skin, but it wasn't the chill that made me shiver as my aunt approached with a scalpel and a syringe.

Surely it couldn't stop me finding my mate. It wouldn't be a proper mark, after all. Just another meaningless scar to add to the collection. I wouldn't be bonded to anyone, so my wolf wouldn't turn all lovey-dovey. I repeated that to myself over and over again as I hopped up to sit on the camping table.

Fion swabbed the patch of skin just below my collarbone. It was on the right, which was unusual for a mark, but my tattoo was kinda in the way. She collected the syringe first and flicked a few air bubbles from five mils of clear liquid.

"Sharp scratch," she warned me.

I leaned backwards and eyed the syringe warily. "What is it?"

Fion knew she'd lost before the words were even out of my mouth, so she swore softly before saying, "Just a bit of local. I'm about to cut into your skin, Eva. You'll need—"

"Nah."

She set the syringe down. I was met with a hard, unimpressed stare. "Look, I don't know who started this trend of refusing painkillers, but I don't like it."

That would be my sister. Not intentionally, of course, but just because she was so good with pain that the rest of us had gotten a little jealous and competitive. It followed that I was much more receptive to the meds when there weren't any witnesses. And hence my eyes fixed on Liam.