MARIGOLD POV

I knew something was wrong the moment breakfast came and went without him.

Gregor wasn’t late. Not when it came to me. Not after last night—after the heat, the rawness, the confession that slipped from my lips when his fangs nearly grazed my neck. I had begged him to mark me, damn it. I had begged because tomorrow wasn’t promised, because war was at our throats, because I didn’t know if we’d ever get another moment to breathe.

But he had kissed me instead, tender ...