Submission Is Not My Style - Chapter 81: Chapter 81

It’s dark.
Not the kind of darkness that frightens—it’s more like a heavy, endless fog. I float in it, weightless, numb. Somewhere deep in my chest, there’s a dull ache—a reminder of the blade that tore through my heart. I should be dead. I felt myself slipping away.
But… I’m still here.
And I don’t understand why.
My body won’t move. My lips won’t part. Every time I try to scream, to beg, to speak—nothing comes out. It’s as if something invisible is wrapped around my throat, holding me in place. I’m a prisoner inside my own body.
But I can hear.
That’s how I know I’m not dead.
Voices—soft at first, then growing louder. Familiar.
Jack.
He’s been here the whole time. I’d know his voice anywhere, even when it cracks with exhaustion or shakes with rage. His warmth lingers near me like a second skin—wrapping me in something stronger than any pain. Keeping me tethered.
He’s protecting me. Still.
Then… there’s another presence. One that stirs something ancient in my blood. It’s calmer, heavier—familiar in a way I can’t quite explain. Like spring rain falling on pine trees. Like a forgotten lullaby. He doesn’t speak often, but when he does, my soul listens.
Then Jack’s voice cuts through everything—angry, raw, frantic.
“Why isn’t she waking up yet?!”
I want to reach out, tell him I’m trying. That I want to open my eyes. That I’m fighting.
“She should’ve woken up already,” the other man says—probably the doctor. “Even the King gave her his blood. I—I don’t understand—”
Jack growls, and I can feel the frustration pouring off him in waves.
“There is one thing, Alpha…”
A pause.
“Maybe you should mark her.”
My body tenses—or maybe I imagine it tensing. Rage flares through Jack’s voice.
“How dare you tell me to mark her against her will?”
Gods. My heart clenches. Even when I’m half-dead, he’s still defending me.
“I’m only saying it because the mate bond might help—if she accepts it—”
“You think I’d ever do to her what he did to my sister?!”
No. He wouldn’t. I know that. Jack would never hurt me like that.
And now I know what I have to do.
I force the air into my lungs, feeling my throat strain—raw, broken.
“Mark me…” I whisper. It’s a rasp, barely a sound, like wind through leaves.
The silence afterwards makes me fear he didn’t hear me.
But then I hear him move.
He turns.
“…Please, Jack…” I whisper again, begging. “I want to… bear your mark…”
Seconds pass.
Then his voice comes low, trembling and full of emotion. “Your wish is my command.”
A second later, something sharp—hot—sinks into the side of my neck.
I hiss, pain exploding through every nerve like fire. For one wild heartbeat, it feels as though I’m being stabbed all over again—but then—
Then the pain melts and becomes something else entirely.
Pleasure.
A fierce warmth erupts within me, radiating from the bite mark across my chest, down my spine, and lower—between my legs. Liquid fire courses through my veins, igniting every inch of me. My skin tingles, each nerve alive and pulsing, like I’m glowing from the inside out. My legs twitch. My lips part. My chest rises sharply, as if I’ve just resurfaced after drowning and taken my first true breath.
I feel everything.
I feel Jack—his presence pressing against me, curling over my skin and sinking deeper, like a thread sewn straight into my bones. His scent surrounds me—dark, smoky, maddeningly addictive.
In my mind, I see his hands—rough and calloused—gliding up my waist, across my stomach, and cupping my breasts with a mix of reverence and hunger. A helpless whimper slips from my lips, lost in the overwhelming sensation. I feel his mouth on my throat, his tongue teasing the mark he just made. My body writhes against the sheets, seeking him, aching for more, as heat builds low in my belly.
Instinct takes over. I arch toward him, craving more of his touch. His breath is hot and ragged against my skin, his grip possessive—holding me as if I’m the most fragile, precious thing in his world.
Then a low growl cuts through the haze.
“If you keep touching yourself like that…”
A pause—heavy, filled with warning.
“…I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll take you—right here. Right now.”
My eyes snap open.
Everything rushes back in vivid color.
Jack stands over me, eyes dark with hunger, jaw clenched. He looks like a man barely hanging on to his control. His chest rises and falls with deep, heavy breaths. Desire blazes in every sharp line of his face, his lips parted as if he’s holding himself back with the last thread of restraint.
I gasp, eyes wide, and feel my face flush deep crimson when I realise my hand has slipped beneath the blanket—gripping my thigh, dangerously close to—
Oh. Shit.
I jerk my hand away like I’ve been burnt.
He smirks—damn him. That wicked, beautiful smirk that always gets me into trouble.
I touch my neck, heart thudding. My fingers brush over the new mark—his mark. It throbs faintly, but not in pain. No… in connection. A warmth pulses from it, like it’s breathing with me.
Real.
It happened.
He marked me.
I don’t even have time to process it before his lips crash against mine.
The kiss is deep, desperate, everything. I feel him pouring every ounce of fear, anger, love—all of it—into the way his mouth moves against mine. My fingers find the front of his shirt, clutching it as he kisses me until my head spins.
He pulls back just enough to press his forehead to mine, his eyes scanning my face like he can’t believe I’m really here.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. “You don’t know how scared I was… how close I came to losing my fucking mind.”
A small smile tugs at my lips as I realise something—I don’t feel dizzy or weak like I used to whenever he kissed or touched me before, when it would knock me out completely. His mark… it was exactly what I needed to complete me.
“Well…” I rasp, my cheeks still burning, “I’m awake now.”
His eyes brighten, and a soft chuckle escapes him—like a break in the storm he’s been weathering alone.
I gently brush my fingers over the mark again, whispering, “Your mark… it brought me back. Thank you.”
“No,” Jack murmurs, eyes burning into mine. “You’re the one who kept fighting, Kali. My mark just reminded you who you belong to.”
And I do.
With every breath I take, I belong to him.
“How do you feel?” Jack asks gently, though I hear the tension under his words. “No pain anywhere?”
I blink slowly, taking in the room, the golden sunlight slanting through the curtains… and him. His brow furrows with concern, exhaustion etched deep into his features. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. His beard is fuller, his eyes rimmed with red. There’s a raw desperation in the way he stares at me—like if he blinks, I might disappear.
His thumb brushes gently across my cheek, as though he’s trying to convince himself I’m truly here.
My chest tightens.
How long has he been holding this fear alone?
“I feel… strong,” I say softly. “Stronger than ever.”
And I mean it. My body feels different now—like every part of me has been reforged in fire and cooled in the arms of someone who refused to let me go. I feel… whole.
He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for years.
“How long was I out?” I wonder silently.
“Six days,” he answers without hesitation, like he’s been counting every single second—beating me to the question, as if he plucked it straight from my thoughts.
My eyes widen. “You can read my thoughts now?”
His smirk is immediate—cocky and amused. “You’re mine now, fully marked, sweetheart. You really need to work on those mental walls.” His voice dips to a teasing whisper as he leans in. “No more secret fantasies about me.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. I’m blushing so hard I feel like I’ve caught fire. “Jack!”
He chuckles softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “God, I’ve missed that look on your face,” he murmurs, but his gaze turns serious, voice low. “Do you remember anything? Everything?”