Page 138 of Marked By His Hunger
And in that flash—something massive streaked past the window.
Silver.
Winged.
Gone in a blink.
“What the hell was that?”
“Dragon,” she replied, as if she were commenting on the weather.
“Dragon, of course those are real, too,” I muttered.
“Magic is everywhere in Asgarheim,” she said. “It’s very real. But more importantly—you are real within it. And you are not simple, Miss Notte.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Necromancy is only the surface.”
My thoughts betrayed me again.
Raven.
His mouth.
His hunger.
The way something in me had answered it.
Professor Kenna exhaled slowly.
“You think loudly.”
“Maybe you should answer faster,” I muttered.
She ignored that, too.
“All students here,” she said, “agree to magical compatibility testing upon admission.”
My chest tightened.
“For what?”
“To be a donor for the current Draugr.”
The word hit like a slap.
“A donor?”
“A blood donor. A potential mate. What is it you think he is, Serena? The Draugr is a Revenant. Vampiric in nature.”
“He-he drinks blood?”
“He needs it to survive, but he must exercise precise control. Otherwise his Bloodlust will win. And he will become a killing machine.”
Thunder roared in my ears.
