Page 110 of Marked By His Hunger
She inhaled sharply.
“Your heart is racing.”
Because it beats for you.
Because I have not felt it this alive in centuries.
Because I am afraid.
I cupped her jaw gently.
So fucking gently.
Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.
And my mouth watered.
“I could ruin you,” I whispered.
Her gaze did not waver.
“Or you could trust me.”
Trust.
A word I had not allowed in a very long time.
I leaned down and brushed my lips across hers in a whisper of a kiss.
Then I pressed my forehead lightly to hers.
The small contact detonated the fragile bond between us.
Heat surged through my veins—not my normal hunger. Not Bloodlust.
I felt as if my entire life—eons of existence had all been headed towards this one fragile connection.
This thread.
This impossible line between us.
And more than anything, I felt compelled to feed it. To weave.
Seal the bond.
Bite her.
I fought against the desire to claim her.
And yet, it felt like something ancient snapped into alignment.
I saw flashes—her on the cliffs.
Her violet magic exploding outward.
Her tears on her cheeks.
My father’s voice demanding breeding contracts.
