Alicia didn't answer—not with words. She couldn't. That memory still clung to her skin like a whisper, still sparked along her spine where his fingers had grazed. The woman's smile broadened.
"Ah," she said softly, lifting her drink in a mock toast. "So it is real."
Alicia swallowed hard. "Who are you?"
The woman took a slow sip, her gaze never leaving Alicia's. "Someone who knows what it means to be marked by something… dangerous. To want it. Fear it. Deny it. And still ache when it's gone."
She stepped beside Alicia now, her voice barely above a whisper, like a spell being cast.
"He doesn't just want you. Men like him—" she paused, lips twitching into something unreadable, "—they don't want. They claim. And when they do, it's not just your body they consume, sweetheart. It's your choices, your fire, your silence."
Alicia's heart hammered. "Then what am I supposed to do?"
