Page 101 of Marked By His Hunger
It fit him.
Dark.
Sharp.
Beautiful.
“If you’re done with your questions, may I take you to the infirmary now?” he added, sounding irritated.
I frowned.
What was he annoyed about?
I could have died.
He could have died.
And somehow he was irritated?
Then I realized—he was irritated with himself.
With something inside himself.
That emotional echo hit me again.
Conflict.
Hunger.
Restraint.
It was dizzying.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “You already saved me from those slugs, you don’t have to carry me, too. I know it’s not easy?—”
“First, I told you those were Algea,” he interrupted. “Three sister Daemons. Minor Greek deities. They feed on misery. Your tears drew them.”
Oh.
Yeah.
Well, that was comforting.
Not.
“So, you’re saying this is my fault?”
“Of course not, Unnasta.”
The word wrapped around me softly.
Unnasta.
It sounded ancient.
Private.
“And second,” he continued quietly, “you are wrong.”
