Page 103 of Bitten & Burned

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“She’s marked,” the girl whispered. “She’s ours. She’s marked. She’s ours, she’s marked, she’s ours…”

I didn’t kill her.

Not yet.

I dropped to my knees beside Rowena, my hands already shaking.

She was limp. Her braid was half-undone. The shirt was torn open.

I pressed two fingers to her neck.

Please. Please, please, please…

A pulse. Weak.Thready.

But there. Gods, it wasthere.

She was my heart now, fluttering under my fingers. If it stopped, so did I.

She was breathing.

Barely.

“You’re okay,” I whispered, like I had the power to make it true. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

My hands shook as I gathered her up. I didn’t want to touch her, but didn’t want to let go. Gods, I couldn’t win.

She was warm. Her chest still rose and fell in small, shallow breaths.

Thank the fucking gods she was alive.

“She’s marked, she’s ours, she’s marked, she’s ours…” the girl babbled in the corner.

“Shut up,” I barked. “Unless you want to end up like the others.”

She didn’t stop. Just dropped her voice to a whisper.

Fucking moron.

I tried to block her out. Smoothed Rowena’s hair, tried to pull the tatters of Anton’s shirt around her body—give her some semblance of dignity, of safety.

That’s when I felt it.

A raised patch of skin, lower on her thigh. Rough under my fingers. Scarred.

That was the wound on her thigh. She’d talked about it enough. But I’d never seen it. Never wanted to. The thing reeked like it was rotting.

I traced along the ridges of flesh built up around it, and it felt familiar.

Fuck.

My heart stopped. My stomach plummeted.

I didn’t even have to see it to know.

I could already tell—just from the feel of it.

But I looked anyway, moved the bottom hem of the shirt to see better.

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