Page 111 of Marked By His Hunger
My uncle’s voice replacing his.
The Norns watching.
Always watching.
And beneath it all—the one thing I have never had in any of this.
Choice.
I drew back slowly.
“I would not hurt you for all the realms, Serena Notte,” I said quietly.
She swallowed.
“Raven? Please, tell me why I feel this way.”
“What way, Unnasta?” I asked as I breathed her in and cursed myself a fool.
“Like I’ll die if you don’t kiss me,” she murmured.
“No, Little One. Never that, please. I cannot bear to think of you in harm’s way,” I confessed.
“Why? Tell me,” she demanded, and fool that I was I could not deny her an answer.
“Because you have not been called here as merely a Necromancer to attend Asgarheim Runevald Institute.”
Her breath hitched.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the Norns, the Fates have decided to tempt the untemptable.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know. But you see, you are the one thing I never believed I would be granted.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
I caressed her throat, unable to help myself. I pressed my thumb over her speeding pulse and allowed the truth to settle between us.
“You are the one thing that should never have crossed my path. You are my fated mate.”
“But that means, I mean, doesn’t that mean we’re supposed to be together?”
I answered with the only rebuttal I could.
I answered her with silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
Dangerous.
“Raven?”
Her eyes started to close. I could feel her exhaustion creeping over her, winning the war she fought between rest and wake.
