Page 3 of Marked By His Hunger
Except… my eyes flick to the dark corner of my room.
For a second—just a second—I see something there.
A shape.
Tall. Watching.
Waiting.
And instead of fear… something inside me answers.
Like it always does.
Like it’s been waiting too.
My breath catches.
“Curse,” I whisper.
The word feels heavy.
Wrong.
I think about the nights I couldn’t sleep because the world felt too loud—even in silence.
About the things I’ve seen that no one else could.
About the feeling—deep in my bones—that this (whatever this is) isn’t something that happened to me.
It’s something I am.
My fingers drift back to the trackpad.
Hover.
Shake.
This is my one chance.
To understand it.
To control it.
To stop being afraid of myself.
Or at the very least… to find out the truth.
My pulse thunders in my ears.
“Okay,” I breathe. “Okay… fine.”
I straighten, shoulders squaring like I’m about to step off a cliff.
“Gift,” I say this time, softer. Testing it.
It doesn’t feel as wrong.
Not entirely.
