The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 103

Chapter 103 – Marked Again

Nevara

The gown slipped from my shoulders like a whispered promise, pooling at my feet in a silken hush. Thoren’s fingers ghosted over the strap of my bra, his voice low against my neck.

“Do you need help with this as well?”

+25 Pants

I nodded, breath catching as his fingers slid beneath the band, unhooking it with maddening precision. The tension in the room thickened, a slow–burning coil wrapping tighter with every second he didn’t touch me- and every second I ached for him to.

The bra fell away, and cool air kissed my skin just before his hands replaced the fabric. He cupped my breasts like I was fragile and holy, like something sacred he’d waited too damn long to claim.

“It’s only been a week,” I whispered. “Since you marked me.”

His eyes lifted to mine, pupils dark and blown wide.

“I know.”

“And we’ve only done this once, what a month ago?”

His jaw tensed. “Because I almost lost you. Twice. You think I wanted to touch you before knowing you were strong enough?”

“But I am strong enough,” I said, turning and pressing my bare chest to his. “And I need this, Thoren. I need you. All of you.”

That was all it took.

He spun us, guiding me backward until my the backs of my knees hit the bed. I fell into the mattress with a breathless laugh, cut short by the way he followed me down like a predator claiming his prize.

His mouth found mine–urgent, greedy, and deep. No pretense. No hesitance. Just a savage, beautiful truth between our lips. His tongue swept mine, and his hands roamed with the practiced reverence of a man who’d memorized every dip and scar, every soft place that made me sigh.

And when he pulled back, his voice was gravel.

“Tell me to slow down, and I will.”

I reached down and undid the button of his pants instead.

“No.”

The clothes came off in fragments–his belt, my panties, the rest of his self–control. His skin burned against mine, all heat and strength and hunger wrapped in muscle and dominance. His c**k rested heavy between my thighs, thick and pulsing and impossibly hard. I reached for it, fingers curling around the weight of him.

Chapter 103–Marked Agay

“Fuck,” he hissed, burying his face in my neck as I stroked him once, twice–slow and deliberate.

“Nevara,” he warned.

But I didn’t stop.

“I want to feel you,” I said. “All of you. Deep. Bare. Real.”

He growled like the lycan beneath his skin was rising, fighting for release.

And then he snapped.

+25 Points

He grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head with one hand, while the other gripped my hip and yanked me to the edge of the bed. In one fluid thrust, he was inside me–thick and stretching, deep and perfect.

We both gasped.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, back arching, legs wrapping around his waist.

“You feel that?” he snarled against my jaw. “That’s mine. Every inch of you–mine.”

His hips snapped forward, over and over, and the world blurred. There was no castle, no engagement, no

Bethany–just this. This heat, this raw, animalistic claiming.

His hand slipped down, thumb circling my clit as he pounded into me with ruthless precision. I shattered once, thighs trembling, crying out his name. And still, he didn’t stop.

“Again,” he said. “Come for me again, Nevara. Let your king feel it.”

“Thoren-“I gasped, already there, pleasure spiking through me so hard my vision went white.

He groaned, losing rhythm as my cunt clenched around him. His control broke. He slammed deep one final time and came with a growl, hips jerking, filling me with everything he had.

We collapsed into each other, slick and panting, the room filled with the sound of our ragged breaths.

“Only the second time,” I whispered against his throat. “And we still haven’t had enough.”

He smiled into my hair. “Then let’s make up for lost time.”

His lips were still on mine when he flipped us, his body moving with a grace that made me forget how massive he was. The weight of him over me didn’t feel suffocating–it felt necessary. Grounding. As though I’d spent too long floating and finally had something solid to anchor me.

Our bodies slid together like we’d never stopped. Like the month of chaos between our last time and now had been nothing but a breath between storms. But this was different. Slower Hungrier.

Thoren kissed down my neck, then lower, pausing at the scar where his mark had once bled into my skin like moonlight into a midnight sky. His tongue teased the skin there, reverent and possessive all at once.

“You are mine,” he growled softly. “In soul, in spirit…”

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He pushed inside me slowly, stretching me inch by glorious inch, and my back arched with a gasp.

“…and in body.”

I moaned, gripping his shoulders. “Gods, Thoren…”

His hands framed my hips, holding me in place while he started to move–deep, rolling thrusts that left no part of me untouched. I could feel the bond thrumming between us again, bright and hot like a wire strung between our hearts.

His pace picked up again, hips snapping in that perfect rhythm that had me sobbing his name against his shoulder. His scent–earth and storm and the faint burn of magic–wrapped around me, thick and intoxicating.

Every movement felt like a promise. Every breath a vow.

I met him stroke for stroke, my nails dragging across his back, leaving faint red lines that faded almost

instantly. But he growled anyway–like he liked the sting.

“I want more,” I whispered, breathless.

“More?” he rasped.

I locked my legs around his hips. “Mark me again.”

He froze. “Nevara-”

“I want to remember it this time,” I said. “I want to feel it, not just hear the story of how you saved my life

with it. I want it burned into me with intention. With choice.”

His pupils flared. He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, searching, asking.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

I nodded. “Yes. But before that…” I reached up and cradled his jaw. “Mark you. Make you mine, just as

you’ve made me yours.”

His breath caught. “Nevara…”

I didn’t wait. I surged upward, wrapped my arms tight around him, and pressed my lips to his throat.

He tilted his head without hesitation.

My canines descended on instinct, and I sank them into the place just beneath his ear, the skin giving way

with a burst of heat and power that flooded my mouth like the taste of stars.

He cried out, not from pain–but from pleasure so intense it broke his voice in two.

The bond flared like wildfire.

When I drew back, panting, blood staining my lips, Thoren looked utterly wrecked.

“Holy shit,” he groaned. “That was…”

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