"HE IS STILL HUNGRY."
The voice didn't just speak; it felt like a cold hand reaching through Mailah's chest.
Grayson's face changed instantly. The warmth she had just managed to bring back to his eyes was sucked away, replaced by a color so dark it was almost black.
His grip on her waist tightened, but it wasn't a hug anymore. It was a lock.
"He is still hungry," the voice hissed again, the sound coming from the rotting trees that were now closing in.
Mailah felt the panic rise in her throat. She looked at Grayson, and for a second, she saw the cold man from the library who viewed her as a battery.
He was staring into the darkness, his jaw set, his body ready to give in to that terrible hunger.
"No," Mailah whispered. "Not this time."
She did the only thing she could think of.
She grabbed Grayson's hand. His skin was turning cold again.
