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."

......

I was the owner of a courier station on the verge of bankruptcy.

To cut costs, I had let go of all my movers and decided to buy cheap labor off a secondhand biological trading platform.

My budget was three thousand dollars.

My criteria were simple-male, strong, durable, low food consumption.

The page refreshed, and a werewolf highlighted in red popped up.

The listing read, "Premium Northwest Wastes bloodline. S-class physique. Extremely violent temperament. Has bitten three previous buyers. Discounted for quick sale."

The price was two thousand five hundred dollars.

I stared at the photo.

The man in it was chained in iron shackles, eyes dark and feral. But the muscles on his bare arms were sculpted and powerful, his shoulders broad and built for heavy labor.

Perfect manual labor material.

As for the biting?

The previous buyers probably tried to keep him as a pet.

I needed a worker. Feed him, make him work. Worst case, I'd buy a muzzle.

I purchased him without hesitation.

The seller replied instantly.

"Just to confirm, are you absolutely sure you want this one? He's on the edge of his rut phase and highly aggressive. If he refuses to obey and you get hurt, we do not cover medical expenses."

I replied, "It's fine. I don't care if he's fierce. As long as he can carry refrigerators and washing machines, we're good."

The seller fell silent.

"Understood. Since you're prepared, we'll ship him immediately. We'll also include a high-voltage shock collar as a complimentary gift. If he doesn't listen, you may use it."

I thanked them.

Three days later, a massive iron cage was delivered to the entrance of my courier station.

The delivery man dropped it and bolted, as if he'd just unloaded a living disaster.

I cut the seal with a pair of scissors.

The cage door swung open.

A towering figure stepped out.

He was even taller than in the photos. The metal collar around his neck made me look unnecessarily cruel.

His short black hair was disheveled, and a pair of deep green eyes locked onto me with lethal intensity.

A low growl rumbled from his throat.

The unmistakable warning of a beast confronting an enemy.

I didn't step back. I walked forward instead and circled him once.

I reached out and squeezed his arm.

Solid. Dense muscle under the skin.

Then I gestured. "Open your mouth. Let me check your teeth."

His body stiffened, the feral light in his eyes sharpening.

But he slowly opened his mouth.

A row of stark white teeth, canines long and razor sharp.

Good.

Healthy. No visible defects.

I nodded in satisfaction.

"From now on, your name is Adrian Kane. I'm Jade Lawson, by the way."

Adrian lowered his gaze to me. His nostrils flared slightly, as if he were scenting me.

He withdrew his fangs, but the vibration in his throat didn't stop.

A low, continuous hum.

Like an engine idling.

I assumed he was either hungry or nervous.

"Stop that rumbling. I know you're not used to this yet. Work first. After that, I'll give you meat."

"Meat?"

It was the first word he had spoken, his voice rough and hoarse.

"Yes. As much as you can eat."

The hostility in his eyes eased, replaced by something probing. Something deeper I couldn't quite decipher.

His gaze lingered on my neck. His Adam's apple bobbed once.

The vibration grew louder.

I pointed at the mountain of oversized packages stacked in the corner of the station.

"Adrian, relax. See those boxes?"

He followed my finger, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

"I see them."

"Your job is simple. Move all the ones marked in red onto that cargo tricycle. The ones marked in blue go all the way to the back of the warehouse."

Adrian froze.

He turned to look at me, and for the first time, something like disbelief crossed his face.

"You bought me... to carry boxes?"

I nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"What else? You think I bought you to worship? I paid two thousand five hundred dollars. You're earning that back."

He fell silent.

Something complicated flickered through those deep green eyes.

Humiliation, maybe. Relief. And beneath it, something darker. Almost fervent.

He didn't argue. He turned and walked toward the pile.

A double-door refrigerator, still mounted on its wooden shipping frame, weighed at least six hundred pounds.

Normally I needed two workers to lift it, plus a tip to keep them from complaining.

Adrian stepped up, gripped the edge of the wooden frame with one hand, braced his back and hoisted the entire thing onto his shoulder.

Effortless. Like lifting a sack of cotton.

My jaw nearly dropped.

Jackpot.

This wasn't a vicious werewolf. This was my personal money-printing machine.

He carried the refrigerator to the tricycle and set it down gently.

Then he looked back at me.

Like he was waiting. For orders. Or praise.

I walked over and patted his dust-covered shoulder.

"Nice work. Keep going. There are a hundred more."

The slight lift to his chin stiffened.

He stared at me in disbelief.

"A hundred?"

"Yes. Hurry. The truck leaves at six."

I was already turning away to check invoices.

Behind me, heavy footsteps and the thud of boxes hitting metal echoed through the station.

Adrian worked nonstop.

All afternoon, in the sweltering warehouse without air conditioning, he did the labor of three men by himself.

Sweat traced down the sharp line of his jaw, soaking through his worn tank top.

The scent of heat and sweat filled the air.

Every so often I looked up. He would be hauling another crate-while staring at me.

That look was intense.

Hot enough to burn.

And the grinding never stopped.

The sound made my own teeth ache.

By the time we closed for the night, I handed him a boxed dinner with two extra chicken legs inside.

"Eat. You did well today."

Adrian took the food but didn't open it.

Instead, he stepped closer. His tall frame cast a shadow over me.

He lowered his head until his nose was almost brushing the side of my neck.

His breath was hot against my skin.

"Jade."

He said my name, voice hoarse and strained.

"I feel terrible."

My heart jumped. I thought he'd overworked himself or gotten heatstroke.

"What hurts? Did you strain your back?"

I reached toward his lower back.

The moment my hand touched his muscle, his entire body jolted.

He grabbed my wrist-hard enough to make my pulse spike.

But he quickly reined himself in, his grip loosening to something almost careful.

The green in his eyes darkened. His breathing turned uneven.

"My teeth itch. I want to bite something."

I exhaled in relief.

"You scared me. I thought it was a workplace injury. It's normal. You're a wolf. Grinding your teeth is instinct."

I pulled a stick of dried beef jerky from my drawer-the one I'd meant to snack on myself-and pushed it into his mouth.

"Bite this. It'll keep you busy."

Adrian held the jerky between his teeth.

For a split second, his expression went blank.

Then the grinding grew even more intense.

Over the next month, Adrian became the most talked-about courier in the district.

He delivered fast, lifted like a machine, and looked intimidating enough that no one dared file complaints.

My business doubled.

I was extremely satisfied with him.

Except for his increasingly serious "condition."

He stopped sleeping on the camp cot I had prepared for him.

Every night, I would wake up to find him asleep on the carpet in my room.

Right beside my bed.

Sometimes I would open my eyes in the middle of the night and see a pair of glowing green eyes fixed on me in the dark.

Unblinking.

His body temperature kept rising, too.

The entire room felt like a furnace because of him.

Worse, he developed an obsessive need for physical proximity.

When I was entering data at the front desk, he would wedge himself between me and the counter.

When I was eating, he stared at my lips.

When I walked, he followed less than two feet behind me.

The grinding sound had turned into heavy breathing.

It made my nerves tighten.

That night, I stepped out of the shower and found Adrian sitting on my bed.

He was holding the clothes I had just taken off.

His face was buried in them as he inhaled deeply.

At the sound of the door, he lifted his head.

His eyes were rimmed red. Sweat beaded across his forehead. The veins in his neck stood out sharply.

"Adrian! What are you doing?"

I rushed over and snatched the clothes away.

He looked embarrassed and angry, but more than anything, caught off guard.

He didn't apologize.

Instead, he stepped closer.

"Jade, I can't control it."

His voice was rough, almost pleading.

"You smell too good."

I pressed my hand to his forehead.

Burning.

Hot enough to sting.

"Do you have a fever?"

Panic crept in.

He was my main source of income. If he went down, who was delivering those packages?

"Adrian, did you catch something? Some acute infection? Is this rabies or something?"

He closed his eyes, as if holding himself together by sheer will.

He caught my hand where it rested on his forehead and pressed his face into my palm.

His skin felt rough, the scrape of stubble against my hand.

But the way he leaned into it was almost reverent, like a large dog begging to be petted.

"I don't have a fever. I just... feel empty here."

He tapped his chest. Then his mouth.

"I need to bite something. It has to be you."

He sounded delirious.

Clearly out of his mind from the heat.

"Enough. Lie down. I'll get you some medicine."

I pushed him onto the bed and pulled the blanket over him.

Adrian tried to get up, but I shot him a stern look.

"Don't move. I'll dock your pay."

That worked.

Adrian went still.

He curled up in my blanket, nose pressed firmly into my pillow.

His eyes looked damp as they followed me.

That rapid rumbling sound vibrated in his throat again.

I remembered what the seller had said about heightened aggression during rut phase.

Could the incubation period really be this long?

Not taking any chances, I turned and ran out of the room.