Marked By My Prey
The dark velvet drapes are pulled wide, and the room is flooded with the strong, medicinal scent of crushed herbs and something heavily metallic.
A new face hovers in my blurred vision.
A woman. No. Another vampire, but older, her dark hair streaked with silver and her sharp features set in a deep, troubled frown. She wears a practical, blood-red tunic instead of the lavish clothes the others wear. Celine.
Cold fingers press against my pulse point, then slide up to the side of my neck, right over the burning mark.
I flinch, a gasp tearing from my throat as a fresh wave of pain rips through me.