Page 131 of Marked By His Hunger
The door didn’t just open when the professor stormed in.
It seemed to cut the room in half.
Power entered first.
Cold, measured, deliberate power—the kind that didn’t need to announce itself because everything in its path already knew to move.
Professor Kenna just stepped inside like she owned not just the infirmary, but the stone beneath it.
Which, honestly, she probably did.
Her hair was twisted into a severe bun, one stark silver streak slicing through the black like a scar left by lightning.
Her robes were long, structured, and impossibly still despite the storm raging outside.
Even the memories of ghosts flicking in and out of existence seemed to notice her.
The runes carved into the infirmary walls dimmed, then flared faintly, adjusting themselves to her presence.
I sat up straighter without meaning to.
My lips still tingled from Raven.
My body still hummed from him.
My neck—God.
My neck still ached with the absence of his bite.
Everything inside me felt unfinished.
And then she spoke.
“Miss Notte.”
Her voice was smooth, controlled, and absolutely not to be interrupted.
“I am Professor Kenna of the Asgarheim Runevald Institute. I must say, despite these circumstances, I am very glad you have decided to join us.”
I blinked.
Tried to gather myself.
Failed a little.
“It’s not like I had a choice,” I said, the words slipping out sharper than intended. “My aunt and uncle were getting tired of having me around, and I was getting tired of psychiatrists and hospitals.”
There it was.
The cold, hard truth of my circumstances.
Too honest.
Too fast.
Too me.
Her gaze didn’t soften.
