~Declan~

This must be what it’s like to be a dandelion, extra lightweight, as if the wind would take me anywhere it desired.

Tempted to repeat what she said, I ask instead. “Are you sure?” because repeating her words might trigger the version of Serena that was hellbent on dying instead of bearing my mark.

She looked up at me, long lashes fluttering. Her cheeks were pink from all the alcohol she had taken. Then she bit her lip, uncertainty coasting her blue eyes as she shook her head. ...