Divorce The Duke, Marry The King!
Chapter 94: Marking you

Chapter 94: Marking you

On her way to the ceremony, Belle found herself constantly adjusting her gown, it thin fabric barely covering her arms as she walked. She recalled her first mating ceremony; she had been so shy that Quinn had ordered the maids to dress her in a proper gown, disregarding tradition for her comfort. At the time, she had been against his decision, but now, as she followed the customs, she realized just how grateful she had been for his consideration back then.

The fabric was thin, exposing her arms, and beneath it, she wore only a bra and undergarment, making her feel even more vulnerable. The air was cold, and once she arrived at the garden, the chill would be even worse, her gown was far too light to offer any protection. But it did not matter. A mating ceremony never lasted long, once the mates had bonded, they could take their leave. Though, leaving would mean they were expected to complete the mating that very night.

"We are here!" The maid announced, pulling Belle from her thoughts.

Lifting her gaze, her heart pounded as she took in the gathered crowd, men dressed only in trousers, and women clad in sheer, revealing gowns much like hers, some even more so.

She had nearly forgotten the customs of a mating ceremony until now. A memory surfaced, one she had overlooked. There would be a part where she would have to seek out her mate among the honry male werewolves while blindfolded. The first time, it had not been that difficult, as she and Quinn had shared a bond. But now? There was no pull toward Hezekiah. No connection.

"Make way for the future Queen of this kingdom."

The announcer’s voice rang out, silencing the crowd as all eyes turned toward Belle.

"Take off your shoes, my lady," the maid beside her instructed. The moment her feet were bare, her shoes were whisked away.

Drawing in a deep breath, Belle stepped forward onto the ceremonial path, its stones stained with blood from past rituals. Slowly, she made her way toward Hezekiah.

He stood bare-chested, wearing only a pair of pants. Oil glistened on his skin, highlighting his sculpted frame, making him stand out among the gathered wolves. Belle’s breath hitched slightly. This was the first time she had truly seen him, his muscular form, his finely carved abs and he looked every bit the Alpha werewolf.

If she compared him to Quinn, there were differences. Quinn was larger, built with more muscle. But as she thought of Quinn, she recalled his scars. How had she never noticed them when they were married? During their own mating ceremony, he had worn a shirt, and during their nights together, he had always been above her, never allowing her a clear view of his back.

As she neared Hezekiah, a smile curled upon her lips. It remained there, unwavering, as she finally reached his side.

"My lady," Hezekiah murmured, extending his hand. She placed hers in his and lifted her gown slightly to step onto the altar.

"The mating will now commence," the priest declared, commanding the crowd’s attention.

"A mating ceremony is a sacred rite, strengthening the bond between two souls and reminding all werewolves of the Moon Goddess’s promise," he began, his voice steady as he recounted the ancient history of the ritual.

The ceremony continued for another five minutes before the priest finally concluded his sermon. As he stepped back, several maids came forward, each carrying different ceremonial items.

"First, the mates shall share these offerings," the priest announced, selecting a kola nut from the tray. He split it in two, handing one half to each of them.

"Now eat," he instructed. They obeyed without hesitation, proceeding to share several other food items as the ritual required until the final offering had been exchanged.

Belle found herself perplexed by the excessive sharing of food. Her first mating ceremony had not followed this pattern. There had been symbolic exchanges, yes, but nothing as elaborate as this. Had Quinn altered the customs for her back then as well?

"This will sting a little," the priest warned, extending his hand toward her. "Give me your wrist."

Belle complied without flinching. She had endured this once before so pain was of little concern. But as realization struck, her breath hitched. If they were strictly adhering to tradition... would Hezekiah mark her?

No, that could not be. Quinn’s mark, though faded and barely visible, was still present upon her neck. Could two bond marks exist upon the same person? Would it conflict with Quinn’s claim?

She lifted her gaze toward Hezekiah, attempting to catch his attention, but his focus remained on the priest’s actions, leaving her unable to reach him.

The priest proceeded, cutting Hezekiah’s wrist in the same manner before dipping it into the ceremonial vessel, just as he had done with Belle’s.

"This shall be a testament to your oath," he declared, turning toward the altar. He poured their mingled blood over a sacred object, yet as he did so, his features darkened in an unspoken concern.

Hezekiah arched a brow in silent inquiry, but the priest quickly masked his reaction, composing himself before returning to them.

Lifting their wounded wrists, he pressed them together and proclaimed, "You are now united."

A deafening cheer erupted from the gathered crowd, their excitement mounting for the next phase of the ritual.

Over time, as werewolves evolved, many of their ancestors’ traditions had been abandoned, leaving only a few core practices intact. Had they followed the old ways, even as fated mates, Hezekiah would have been required to fight against other strong contenders for the right to claim her. If he survived, his victory would confirm that he was worthy of his mate. If he perished, Belle would remain mateless forever. It was a brutal practice, yet dominance was ingrained in their kind, any opportunity to prove one’s strength as an Alpha was never wasted.

"You may now mark your mate," the priest announced, stepping back to give them space.

Hezekiah moved toward her, but Belle blinked rapidly, subtly gesturing that she needed to speak with him. He did not pause, only drawing her closer by the waist, closing the distance between them.

"I am not marking you," he murmured against her ear. "I know your worries."

She stilled, eyes locking onto his in astonishment. How did he know what she was thinking?

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