MARKED | COMPLETED

Chapter 28

"Let me."

My hair had always been a mess in the morning. It was a struggle to take out the knots that formed from all my tossing and turning. So the help that Aisling offered by brushing out my hair, and twisting it into a tight bun, and been especially kind.

Briefly, I let a memory flash through my mind, the only kind one I could find of my mother braiding my hair for me. I was six, and I had been whining too much about it, so she decided to do it for me. She had hummed, a soft lullaby that was popular with our pack.

I looked up at Aisling to find his eyes glinting with that knowing smile, mimicking the one I had on my face.

"Oh," I mumbled, "you saw that."

He nodded. "We'll learn to control it after the fight. In case you wanted your privacy."

We grew quiet. Did I want to control it? I had to admit that instances where he would imprint an unspoken idea in my mind, or a memory was beautiful. So the idea of controlling this wasn't something I was interested in, at least for the time being.

I watched him through the mirror, how he used his fingers to brush through my hair in an attempt to tame it. Calm before the storm. The way his fingers lingered and how briefly his fingertips brushed my scalp, I knew he was purposely taking his time. His eyes caught mine, a clash of vibrant blue against my lightened black, and smiles slowly tugged at our mouths.

I'd never been one to find the beauty in symmetry. But now there was something beautiful with how we moved together now, naturally sharing expressions, and having unified thoughts.

In no time at all, my bun was in place, and I had enough time to assess my appearance before we had to leave. I wore new boots since my old ones no longer fit, with the laces tight and tucked in. The weather had gotten colder, so I opted for my warmer leggings, tucked into my boots, and slipped on my fleece shirt and wool sweater. More than anything I wanted to wear something that revealed my Mark; but I wasn't going to risk a cold (considering all that I've risked already), so I kept my hair up.

As I glanced down at my Mark, I was proud.

I allowed my gaze to wander down the length of it, following the intricate twist and sudden turn of the vines, quickly counting the three leaves that started it all. If I looked up, I would find the same thing on him.

He insisted that he would brace the cold, and put on a familiar black tee with a deep v-neck—thankfully he didn't wear his sweats and did as I asked and put on a pair of jeans. He wore his Mark just as proudly.

"We could die."

It was the first real concerning thought I had all morning.

I struggled with the urge to roll my eyes just as he did—now, I still had to learn to control that part, since that would be a real considerable nuisance in battle.

"I should crown you the queen of pessimism."

Now, my eyes rolled. As much as I wanted our tender, sweet moment to continue, I knew that it wouldn't. There was anxiousness in the marrow of my bones that I couldn't ignore, a fear bubbling inside of me, eager to get out. Maybe I really was the queen of pessimism, but I could feel the anxiety inside of him, too.

As much as I wanted to pretend that I was dressing nicely for no apparent reason, I knew the truth. Today, when Alpha Sorley arrived, Aisling would relay the message to her—that he was not going to hand himself over, and that we would fight against them.

I didn't precisely know the details, and what words had to be said to declare war, but it would be done. There was going to be a fight. It was inevitable.