Page 103 of Marked By His Hunger
And even as I slipped fully under, one thought burned steady and clear.
Whatever Raven was to me?
Meeting him tonight was not an accident.
Chapter 11-Draugr
I paced the narrow infirmary chamber like a caged beast.
Which, in truth, I was.
Asgarheim Runevald Institute’s infirmary was carved from old stone—thick, rune-etched walls that hummed faintly with warding magic.
Glass cabinets lined one side, filled with tinctures, bone-thread sutures, vials of glowing liquids harvested from creatures most students never knew existed.
The scent of herbs hung in the air—sage, rosemary, iron-rich tonics.
And beneath it all—her.
Serena’s scent lingered warm and maddeningly alive in the small room.
Nurse Everly pretended calm, but her fear scraped across my nerves like dull blades.
She moved efficiently around the bed, but her pulse fluttered fast in her throat.
I could hear it.
Could smell the adrenaline.
She was afraid of me.
Good.
She should be.
Ever since I had carried Serena into the infirmary—unconscious, limp in my arms, her dark hair tangled against my chest—I had struggled to maintain control.
My form flickered between my DeathFace and my restrained mien, bone threatening to press through flesh every time my restraint faltered.
The wards reacted to me.
They always did.
Rune-lines along the ceiling pulsed faintly in warning.
I was agitated.
Nervous.
Angry.
Starving.
Possessive.
Terrified.
Feelings I had not allowed myself in centuries.
