Page 221 of Marked By His Hunger
Immediate.
Raven.
His arm was wrapped around me, heavy and grounding, his hand resting over my heart like he was making sure it still beat.
His presence pressed against me from every angle—heat, scent, strength—and for the first time since everything had happened I felt anchored.
Safe.
My throat was dry again, but not painfully so.
My body ached—not in the way it had before, not weak or drained—but like I’d been rebuilt from the inside out and was still adjusting to the shape of it.
“Raven?” I murmured.
His reaction was instant.
He surged upright, his grip tightening just slightly, his other hand coming up to cradle my face.
“Unnasta.”
The word broke from him like he’d been holding it back for hours.
Days.
His eyes—those glowing, impossible purple eyes—searched mine with a desperation that made my chest tighten.
“You’re awake,” he said, voice rough, like he hadn’t used it properly in a while.
“I am,” I whispered.
And I was.
Fully.
More than I had ever been.
He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against mine for a brief moment, like he needed the contact as much as I did.
“You left me,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t an accusation.
It was fear.
“I didn’t mean to,” I said, lifting a hand to his face. “I think… I went somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be yet.”
His jaw tightened.
“I felt it.”
Of course he did.
The bond pulsed between us—stronger now, steadier, no longer wild and chaotic. It didn’t lash or snap.
It held.
Firm.
