Page 85 of Marked By His Hunger

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Not hunger.

Something else.

Recognition.

She looked up at me.

And for the first time since I caught her scent—I felt fear.

Not of her.

Of myself.

Her eyes were wide. Dark. Wet with tears and wind.

But beneath the fear, there was calculation. Awareness.

She saw me.

“You—you called my name,” she said hoarsely.

Her voice did not tremble as much as it should have.

“Yes.”

“But how do you know it?”

Because your heartbeat is carved into mine.

Because I imprinted.

Because fate just rewrote my cursed existence.

“I heard it in the halls of the Institute and again at the tavern,” I said instead.

“You were there? I didn’t see you.”

“I was there. I am always there,” I whispered.

Her gaze flicked to my shoulder.

The wounds were already sealing, but dark blood still streaked across my skin.

“You’re hurt.”

I almost laughed.

Draugr do not concern themselves with injury.

And yet, she did.

“It is nothing,” I replied.

The wind shifted again.

And with it—the bond pulsed.

Harder this time.

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