Page 214 of Marked By His Hunger
Her name left my mouth as a growl, low and dangerous, vibrating through my chest as every instinct I possessed surged forward at once.
Wrong.
Something was very fucking wrong.
Not hunger.
Not fear.
Something older.
Something deeper.
The Norns’ threads tightened around my ribs like iron chains.
I could feel her—but not here.
Not fully.
She was slipping.
Through time.
Through memory.
Through death.
And something else—something vast—was answering her.
“Fuck.”
I moved.
Not running.
Not walking.
Hunting.
The corridors blurred as I tore through the Institute, wards flaring in protest as my power rose unchecked. Students scattered, their fear thick in the air, but I ignored them.
Nothing mattered.
Not rules.
Not restraint.
Not Professor Kenna’s warnings.
Not the fragile balance I had spent years maintaining.
Only her.
The deeper I moved into the academic wing, the stronger it became.
The pull.
The surge.
