Page 92 of Marked By His Hunger
Students did not realize how thin the wards were beyond these walls.
Serena walked slightly behind me.
Close enough that I could hear her breathing.
Close enough that the bond hummed like a live wire.
“You said those things feed on misery,” she said quietly.
“Yes.”
“What do you feed on?”
The question froze the air between us.
I did not answer immediately.
Because the truth was ugly.
“Blood,” I said finally.
She did not flinch.
“Human?”
“Sometimes.”
Silence again.
“And me?”
The question was not fearful.
It was steady.
Testing.
I stopped walking.
Turned.
Looked at her fully.
The hunger stirred.
Not wild.
Not uncontrollable.
But present.
Always present.
“I would rather starve than harm you.”
The vow left my mouth before I could reconsider it.
And once spoken—it bound.
