Page 58 of Marked By His Hunger
“Watch it,” a purple-haired Monster muttered.
Heat burned up my neck.
“You can tell us, you know,” Dietrich added.
“Stop pushing,” I snapped. “I promise I’m not trying to be mysterious.”
“Then tell us what you are.”
I licked my lips.
The ghosts pressed closer.
Shadows thickened.
The air grew tight.
And beneath it—that other presence intensified.
High above.
Watching.
The storm cracked violently overhead, thunder shaking the tavern beams.
Every head turned briefly toward the windows.
It felt like an omen.
Like something had shifted.
Fine. You want honesty?
I grabbed Dietrich’s ale and took a swallow.
Liquid courage.
Or just liquid stupidity.
“You’re all Supernaturals,” I said. “So my thing is probably nothing special here, right?”
My roommates and the two Monsters with us all looked at each other, then back at me. They neither confirmed nor denied my assumption.
My heart pounded.
Ghosts sharpened in the corners of my vision.
They were listening too.
“I don’t like to talk about it because, well, I don’t know how to turn it off,” I admitted. “And it kinda scares me.”
Silence fell.
I gathered every ounce of nerve I had.
“Serena—” Sapphire started, but I cut her off.
It was now or never.
