Page 106 of Marked By His Hunger
My eyes snapped to hers.
Her gaze was dark.
Heavy-lidded.
Hungry.
No.
Not that hunger.
But—yes, starving all the same.
I swallowed hard.
“Actually, Unnasta, I think that may be me.”
Confession scraped like gravel in my throat.
And with it? A flood of embarrassment.
Me? Embarrassed?
“You never said how you found me?” she asked softly. “You said you were there, but you weren’t at the pub. I would’ve noticed.”
“Would you have noticed me, Little One?”
“I know it sounds dumb, but it’s like I’ve felt you. For days, I’ve felt you,” she whispered.
Felt.
The word landed between us like prophecy.
She felt me.
And I swear on all, the bond tightened ever so slightly at her words.
I could lie.
In fact, I should’ve lied to her.
But she watched me with an unsettling awareness—like she could taste falsehood before it formed.
“I’ve been following you,” I said.
Her brows knit.
“When?”
“Since before you stepped through the gate.”
Her fingers tightened faintly around mine.
“Why?”
Because you are mine.
Because I imprinted.
