catches up to the moment. This is Klaus’s room at Nightwich, and last night, he gave me the third and final mark. My hand flies to the spot where he bit me.
I slide out of bed and shuffle across the room. I’m out of breath by the time I make it to the mirror in the bathing room. A fine sheen of sweat dampens my forehead.
I’m no longer wearing the storm gray dress but one of Klaus’s shirts. There’s a small sense of comfort in the familiarity of the item. Pulling the collar back, I examine the bite mark. The skin is smooth and healed over, and the two additional scars are light pink. My older scars have faded to little more than slightly raised, pale lines.
There’s an echo in my chest, like the ghost of a second heartbeat. I press my palm over my heart, rubbing at the new sensation.
“You
