Page 86 of Marked By His Hunger
Not hunger.
Not exactly.
It felt like heat coiling low in my gut.
Desire and yearning. Recognition layered with instinct.
Mate.
The word thundered inside me.
She blinked.
And I felt something strange.
A flicker. As if she had heard the echo of it too.
Impossible.
She was too new. Too untrained.
And yet—her violet aura surged.
The spirits gathering at the edge of the overlook stilled.
They were watching me now.
Me.
As if weighing.
Judging.
Testing.
Serena swallowed.
“What were those things?”
“Algea.”
Her brow furrowed.
“Greek minor deities of suffering,” I clarified. “They feed on misery. Tears.”
Her hands dropped slowly from her face.
“You knew they were coming.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was here.”
The question was quiet.
Careful.
I could lie.
