The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 3

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CHAPTER 3 – ANNIVERSARY

Nevara

Three years.

Three years of being his wife.

Three years of sleeping alone.

It’s been a hell of a few weeks. Between losing my brother–arguably my favorite person in the world–and

dealing with Vanessa and Noah moving into the pack house, my head’s barely stopped spinning. Every time I turn a corner, I bump into a ghost or a reminder. Sometimes both.

And now? It’s our anniversary. Three years to the day since Nickolai convinced Tobias to marry me. Three years since I wore that ice blue dress and tried not to look like a child bride.

He didn’t marry me out of love. Or even desire.

He married me so he wouldn’t have to marry Veronica Ainsley–the stuck–up she–wolf from Ironfang Pack with the perfect pedigree and the personality of a wet sock. Her father wanted to merge the territories through bloodlines, and Tobias was the ideal candidate.

Only Nickolai–always my champion–intervened. And Tobias, to his credit, chose me.

But that was all it was. A choice. A strategy.

He’s never so much as touched me. Not a brush of lips. Not a lingering hand. Nothing more intimate than a sideways glance across the dinner table.

Still… I’ve adored him since I was a teenager. That never changed.

Even after my fated mate rejected me when I turned eighteen and my whole world tilted sideways, Tobias was kind. Gentle, even. He didn’t pity me. He offered me shelter–first emotional, then literal.

And I said yes.

Maybe he was pretending. Maybe he still is. But after everything–after three years, after funerals and houseguests and nights alone–I thought maybe… just maybe… this anniversary could be different.

I smoothed down the front of my dress and took a deep breath outside his office door.

No candles. No perfume. Nothing over the top. Just me–hoping.

I didn’t knock.

Big mistake.

The door creaked as it opened, just wide enough for me to step inside and say his name.

But the sound that greeted me wasn’t his voice.

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< CHAPTER 3- ANNIVERSARY

It was a low, guttural moan.

My stomach turned.

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He was behind his desk, chair tilted back, eyes half–closed, one hand wrapped tightly around his c**k. My heart leapt straight into my throat.

I froze, unsure if I should back out or speak. Before I could decide, his phone–propped awkwardly against a stack of books–slipped, the screen flipping toward me as it clattered to the desk.

And I saw her. Vanessa. Reclined on a lounge chair in a thin sheer robe, legs crossed, lips parted in a soft

pout.

He groaned again–until he noticed me.

“Nevara-!” His voice cracked. He fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it again as he scrambled to cover himself. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I–I was just ” My voice failed. “I didn’t know-”

“You didn’t knock!” he snapped, yanking his chair forward and slamming his phone face–down on the desk.

“I didn’t think I needed to,” I whispered.

“It’s my office.”

“It’s our anniversary.”

Silence.

The kind of silence that presses into your ears and makes your pulse sound like war drums.

His jaw ticked. He didn’t look at me. Just kept adjusting his belt, as if that might undo what I saw.

“I thought maybe we could talk,” I said, softer now. “Spend time together. It’s been a rough few weeks and

“This is not the time, Nevara.”

“Then when is?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Because it’s been three years. Three years of me waiting for you to see me. And now I walk in and find you-”

“Don’t.”

I blinked. “Don’t what? Say it? You were touching yourself to a picture of-”

“That’s none of your business.”

I took a step back like he’d slapped me. My throat tightened, but I refused to let it show. “I’m your wife.”

“And I told you–knock before entering my office.”

The cold finality in his tone said everything he didn’t. This wasn’t about privacy. Or boundaries. This was about the fact that I would never be her.

< CHAPTER 3- ANNIVERSARY

He would never want me the way he wanted her.

“Fine,” I said, voice like frost. I’ll remember next time.”

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I turned before he could say another word. Before I had to hear another excuse or lie or half–hearted

explanation.

My hand found the doorknob, but I paused–just long enough to add, “Happy anniversary, Tobias.”

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