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Marked by My Secondhand Delivery Wolf Novel Cover

Marked by My Secondhand Delivery Wolf

To save on the outrageous wages of hired movers, I, Jade Lawson, bought a werewolf who had been returned three times from a secondhand trading site. The seller warned me he was vicious, wild, and prone to biting. What caught my eye wasn't his temperament. It was his build. Six foot three, solid muscle, the kind of body that looked like it could haul six hundred pounds of packages without breaking a sweat. When he arrived, he was indeed vicious. He kept sneaking into my room at night, pressing his scorching body against mine and grinding his teeth against the back of my neck. I thought he was teething. Or worse, developing rabies. I contacted the seller immediately to request a return. After hearing my description, the seller went quiet for a long time. "We don't recommend returning him." "He's not teething. Werewolves only feel the urge to bite the back of their mate's neck during their rut phase. It's a mate-marking instinct." "He wants you. He's trying to get you to bear his pups."
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Chapter 5

Pain.

That was the only thing I could feel.

The sharp tips of his canines pierced the skin at the back of my neck, and hot blood spilled down from the wound.

He didn't stop.

He bit deeper.

What flooded into me wasn't venom, but something else—something uniquely werewolf.

A pheromonal surge, fierce and domineering, forcing its way through every inch of my nerves.

My whole body trembled from the pain. I clutched the muscles along Adrian's back, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood.

He didn't seem to feel it.

Or maybe the pain only drove his instincts further.

He breathed low against me, a deep, satisfied rumble vibrating in his throat—louder than ever before.

The sound resonated through my chest.

"L-let go…"

The words scraped out of me. Tears streamed down before I could stop them.

At the sound of my voice breaking, Adrian finally paused.

He released his bite—but he didn't move away.

Instead, his rough, burning tongue traced over the wound at my neck.

Once. Twice.

There was comfort in it. And something disturbingly devoted.

Under his tongue, the bleeding slowed. The pain faded into a tingling warmth.

"It's marked."

He lifted his head. His eyes were still dark red, fixed on me with an intensity that felt almost sacred.

A smear of my blood lingered at the corner of his mouth.

"Jade. You're mine now."

His voice was hoarse, but there was no hesitation in it. Only triumph.

I didn't even have time to call him a mad dog.

He lowered himself over me again.

This time, not at my neck.

But face to face.

A werewolf's rut phase was never just about marking.

It was the eruption of something long suppressed. Primal. Demanding.

My small bedroom became his hunting ground.

And I was the only prey.

There was nowhere to run.

Adrian's stamina was terrifying.

The same powerful build that once made me think he could haul six hundred pounds of packages without effort now became my undoing.

He didn't tire.

He didn't stop.

Every brush of his skin burned hot enough to make me gasp.

Sweat tangled with sweat.

The world narrowed to sound.

His ragged breathing. And the same obsessive murmur against my skin.

"Honey."

"Jade."

"Mine."

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I hadn't bought labor at all.

But a man who had been restrained too long.

By the time the first light of dawn crept in, I finally slipped into unconsciousness.

The last thing I saw before everything went dark was Adrian's eyes, finally returned to their deep green.

Clear. Satisfied. And filled with a love intense enough to unsettle me.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of my eye.

"Sleep. I'm here."

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