Page 78 of Marked By His Hunger
Control.
“Draugr? Look, Serena didn’t know what she was before she got her letter. Not really,” one of the girls whispered miserably.
“What?”
“She’s out there and has no idea what her magic can do?—”
“Or who it might attract,” I finished for her.
I blurred from the tavern, hunting her across Asgarheim.
Fury and concern warred within me.
Fury at myself for not following after her first.
Concern because she was out there right now, alone.
She walked alone.
On this island?
Unprotected.
Fuck. No.
I couldn’t allow that.
Asgarheim was not forgiving to the unwary.
The forests are older than treaties.
The moat is not merely water.
The sea remembers things.
I didn’t need scent.
I just needed to trust the half-formed bond that began the second I became aware of her existence.
It guided me like a compass embedded in bone.
I spotted her and dove down, wings folding as my feet landed on the ground without a sound.
Fuck. She was beautiful.
Serena, her friend had called her.
She stood on the overlook behind the castle.
Wind tore at her hair.
Hell, she was crying.
And tears—gods be damned—fresh tears in Asgarheim are invitations.
Below her, something stirred.
I saw it before she did.
