Page 112 of Marked By His Hunger
“You must sleep, Unnasta,” I murmured as she started to fall.
My runes glowed brighter.
My hunger roared.
But it no longer felt like a beast clawing outward.
It felt contained.
Focused.
Devoted.
I would still burn.
I would still hunger.
But I would not be the instrument of her destruction.
I had to walk away.
I should walk away. Right fucking now.
For her sake. And for mine.
But Serena Notte was not a passing fascination. Not a fleeting attraction.
She was fate.
She was the answer to a curse written in blood and bone.
And as I cradled her sleeping form, watching over her while she rested and recharged, I knew that I was doomed because if she chose me back?
If this wondrous, beautiful creature accepted the decree of the Fates and said yes to my claim?
Well, then, gods help anyone who tried to take her from me.
Chapter 12-Serena
The next morning, when I woke, it was with a hunger so sharp it felt like it had teeth.
Not a gentle kind of hunger.
Not the kind you get after skipping breakfast or lunch.
This was something primal.
Gnawing.
Scraping against my insides like claws along bone.
It felt old.
Ancient.
Like it had been waiting for me to wake up.
The lights overhead were too bright. Not soft candlelight or rune-glow like the halls of Asgarheim Runevald Institute.
