THIRD PERSON POV
The vampire who carried NYX was a towering brute of a creature. Nearly seven feet tall, his skin was deathly pale and drawn tight over high cheekbones. His eyes were pitch black, as if the night had taken residence inside them, and his long cloak trailed behind him like smoke. When he moved, he didn’t make a sound—unnatural, like a shadow with fangs.
He had scooped NYX up like she weighed nothing. Her fists pounded at his chest, her nails scratching at his skin, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he smiled—a cold, lifeless thing that chilled her more than the wind slicing through the trees.
“Let me go!” she screamed, thrashing harder in his arms.
And that’s when it started.
Her chest burned. Not from fear, but from something inside her. Something rising. Her power.
