Page 102 of Marked By His Hunger
“About what?”
“Carrying you. It is my pleasure.”
The words sank straight into my belly.
Heat pooled there.
Deep.
Low.
Dangerous.
My eyelids drooped.
The world tilted sideways.
Everything felt far away except him.
The rhythm of his breathing.
The steady thud of his heart beneath my cheek.
The faint hum of magic where our bodies touched.
“Okay, Raven. Thank you,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“No, I do because I think I’m about to?—”
But I didn’t finish the sentence because, right then—darkness.
But not the frightening kind.
Not the suffocating kind.
This darkness felt like velvet.
Like deep water.
Like something welcoming me instead of chasing me.
For the first time in my life—the dark did not feel crowded.
It felt quiet.
Safe.
And somewhere in that velvet stillness, I felt something thread between us.
Not hunger or fear.
Like a line.
A thread. Taut. Glowing faintly violet and ember-gold.
Binding.
