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 and desperate, and promised he’d return by dawn.
And yet, when the sun climbed, when the clock dragged past eight, nine, ten, the suite remained empty. His scent—thick, warm, unmistakable—was fading from the sheets.
A gnawing dread clawed at my ribs.
By the time Sugar slipped into the room, pale and tight-lipped
