Page 214 of Marked By His Hunger

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Her name left my mouth as a growl, low and dangerous, vibrating through my chest as every instinct I possessed surged forward at once.

Wrong.

Something was very fucking wrong.

Not hunger.

Not fear.

Something older.

Something deeper.

The Norns’ threads tightened around my ribs like iron chains.

I could feel her—but not here.

Not fully.

She was slipping.

Through time.

Through memory.

Through death.

And something else—something vast—was answering her.

“Fuck.”

I moved.

Not running.

Not walking.

Hunting.

The corridors blurred as I tore through the Institute, wards flaring in protest as my power rose unchecked. Students scattered, their fear thick in the air, but I ignored them.

Nothing mattered.

Not rules.

Not restraint.

Not Professor Kenna’s warnings.

Not the fragile balance I had spent years maintaining.

Only her.

The deeper I moved into the academic wing, the stronger it became.

The pull.

The surge.

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