Accidentally Marked By The Werewolf Prince

I see it—the yellow, glowy eyes of a wolf or a coyote—and I hear it, the familiar howl of a wild creature ready to devour its victim. That’s when I come to the sad realization: I am lost in the woods.

I run. I keep running. I don’t look back. My legs pump furiously beneath me, fueled by pure terror. I run for my dear life because I know—deep in my bones—that if that creature catches up to me, it will not hesitate to tear me apart.

I didn’t want to die. I had just turned sixteen. I was supposed to be experiencing the perks of growing up, not fleeing from monsters in the dark. I hadn’t even had my first kiss yet. My mom said I could finally have a boyfriend now, and there was a guy in my class who wouldn’t stop asking me out. I liked him too. I was finally ready to say yes.

But now? Now I might never get the chance.

I didn’t know where I was or where I was headed. The trees blurred past me, their branches clawing at my skin like fingers trying to hold me back. My breath came in ragged gasps, and my heart thudded so loudly I feared it might give me away. What was that thing chasing me? My mind raced as fast as my feet.

What kind of animal has yellow glowing eyes, lives in the woods, and howls like that? A wolf? A coyote? Something worse?

If only I hadn’t wandered so far from camp. If only I hadn’t been so desperate to prove myself. I’d overheard the seniors whispering about a secret midnight swim in the stream. A few of my classmates had been invited, but not me. "I was a late bloomer," they said. Too quiet. Too soft. Too forgettable.

I wanted to show them that I wasn’t just the shy girl in the corner. I wanted to prove I was brave. That I could be one of them.

Tonight was supposed to be my chance. They’d decided to stay in, something about the moon being “too celestial” tonight. Whatever that meant. The moon had always looked celestial to me—bright, mysterious, and full of secrets. So I’d snuck out on my own, determined to find the stream and return with proof.

I hadn’t thought it through. I didn’t know the route. I thought it was close. I thought I’d be fine.

I was wrong.

The woods were darker than I expected. The trees loomed like giants, their branches tangled like claws. Every sound made me flinch—the rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig, the distant hoot of an owl. And then came the howl. Low. Hungry. Echoing through the trees like a warning.

I skidded to a halt, my feet kicking up dirt as I reached the edge of a cliff. My stomach dropped. Great. Two ways to die now, Lexi. Congratulations. I muttered to myself and spun around, scanning the trees.

There was no one for miles. Even if I screamed, who would hear me? Who would come?

“Help me! Help me!” I cried out anyway, my voice cracking with desperation. I couldn’t give up. Not yet.

The world seemed to hold its breath. A ringing sound filled my ears, sharp and unnatural. Then the eyes appeared again—more of them this time. The one that had spotted me must have gone to fetch the whole pack. I was dinner.

I stumbled backward, my feet moving before my brain could catch up. The eyes stopped advancing. That’s when I realized—I was falling.

I had jumped off the cliff.

I screamed as the air rushed past me, my body weightless for a terrifying moment before I slammed into the ground below. Pain exploded through me. I screamed again, this time in agony. My back. My neck. My head. Everything hurt.

I knew I was broken. My mother was a physician—I’d heard enough stories to recognize the signs. I’d probably fractured my spine. Maybe my skull. Maybe both.

Oh, Mom. Sweet, gentle Mom. She’d lose her mind when she found out. And Alex—my twin brother—he’d blame himself. He was the one who’d convinced her to let me come on this trip.

I whimpered, the sound barely escaping my lips. I didn’t have the strength to cry out anymore. I wished the fall had killed me outright. But no. It had left me alive. Broken. Bleeding. Alone.

The air was cold against my skin, and the earth beneath me felt damp and unforgiving. I could taste blood in my mouth, metallic and bitter. My limbs were numb, and my vision blurred at the edges. I was slipping. Fading.

Something moved beside me. A rustle. A shift in the shadows. I braced myself, expecting the glowing eyes to return, ready to finish the job.

But it wasn’t the creature.

It was a boy.

He looked about my age, maybe a little older. His face was shadowed, unreadable. I wanted to speak, to ask him to send a message to my family. To tell them not to cry. That I’d been foolish. That I was sorry.

But I couldn’t speak. My mouth wouldn’t move. My body was shutting down.

The boy knelt beside me, his movements calm and deliberate. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I felt him brush my neck with his fingers. His touch was warm, almost soothing.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “I’m not going to let you die.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust that voice. But I was slipping. My vision blurred. My limbs were numb.

Then I felt something strange—his tongue against my neck. A sharp pain followed, like fire searing through my skin. I gasped, but the sound was swallowed by the darkness closing in.

Somewhere between life and death, I heard his voice again.

“Mine.”

And then everything went black.

But even in the darkness, something stirred.

I wasn’t dead. Not yet. I was floating—adrift in a place that felt neither here nor there. My body was gone, but my mind remained. I could hear echoes. Whispers. A heartbeat that wasn’t mine.

Images flickered behind my closed eyes. A forest bathed in moonlight. A boy with silver eyes. A pendant glowing green. A howl that split the sky.

I wanted to wake up. I wanted to scream. But I was trapped in the space between.

Then came the warmth. It spread from my neck, pulsing outward like a ripple in water. It wasn’t natural. It felt ancient. Powerful. Alive.

The pain faded, replaced by something else—something electric. My senses sharpened. I could hear the wind rustling through the trees above me. I could smell the earth, the moss, the blood. I could feel the heartbeat again, steady and strong.

And then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

Silence.

Darkness.

Stillness.

I don’t know how long I lay there. Minutes? Hours? Days?

But when I finally opened my eyes, the boy was gone.

The forest was quiet.

And the mark on my neck burned like a brand.