SCARLETT

The void pulsed.

Lucien’s tongue swept the drop of my blood from his lips, and his black eyes ignited with something ancient and terrifying. “Exquisite,” he breathed, the voice of a velvet growl that slid down my spine. “Your power tastes like the moon itself. No wonder they all want you.”

My mark seared brighter, silver flames licking my skin. I collapsed onto my hands, trembling, sweat dripping down my body as the ache inside me deepened into something unbearable. Gods, ...