Page 205 of Marked By His Hunger

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And afterward?

Afterward, I slipped away.

Up stairwells that whispered secrets.

Through corridors that shifted just slightly when I wasn’t paying attention.

To his rooftop sanctuary where the wind howled like something ancient mourning the world below.

That was where I belonged.

With him.

My roommates teased me about it endlessly.

But I didn’t mind.

Ursula, Sapphire, Emery—they were good people.

Good Witches.

And in a place like the Asgarheim Runevald Institute, where Monsters and magic coexisted in uneasy balance, that mattered more than I ever thought it would.

Thank God for Ursula.

Seriously.

If it weren’t for her, Professor Calderwood, the potions master, would have kicked me out already.

I kinda sorta wasn’t paying attention during his class. Or the Herbology one after.

Okay, I wasn’t paying attention at all.

We were cultivating night-blooming roots—rare, sensitive, magically reactive—and I clipped the damn thing straight to the root like a complete idiot.

Oops.

The plant shrieked.

Yes.

Shrieked.

Ursula dove in, muttering under her breath, hands glowing faintly green as she worked to salvage it.

I just stood there, holding the shears like a criminal caught mid-act.

Because I hadn’t been thinking about plants.

I’d been thinking about Raven.

About the way he looked at me.

The way he said Unnasta Minn like it meant something deeper than just a word.

I finally looked it up for myself.

Old Norse.

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