Page 73 of Marked By His Hunger

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Because if I stepped inside?

If I let myself get close?

There would be no pretending.

No disguising whatever this pull was that I felt as duty.

No soothing the lie.

The Monster inside me did not care for logic.

It did not understand restraint.

It only understood need.

Hunger.

Possession.

Claim.

I closed my eyes briefly, forcing a breath through clenched teeth.

Standing watch.

That was what this was.

Not weakness.

Not obsession.

Protection.

For her.

From me.

And for now—that was enough to keep the darkness at bay.

Barely.

“So, you have found her.”

I spun in a crouch, fangs bared.

Professor MacLeish stood in the storm as if it were a light drizzle, calmly collecting rain in glass jars.

Runes etched into each bottle glowed faintly, storing atmospheric charge for whatever potion or ward he planned to craft.

“You look like shite, Raven,” he observed.

My lip curled.

“I told you. I’m not Raven anymore.”

The name belonged to the boy I had been.

Before the title.

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