I lay sprawled across the couch, legs limp, a half-eaten cookie on my chest, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to my very doomed existence.
My hand drifted to the side of my neck, fingers gently poking the place he bit me.
Still sore.
I poked again.
Still sore.
"What the hell?" I muttered. "Shouldn't vampire bites come with, I don't know, instant healing? Magical saliva or something?"
Salem—currently curled up like a black loaf of smug fur on the armrest—opened one eye lazily.
"That's because he didn't just bite you," he said, voice casual, like he was discussing the weather. "He marked you."
I sat up so fast my vision did a somersault.
"WHAT?"
"Yep. Tracker-style. You and him?" Salem rolled onto his back, stretching. "Connected now. You've basically got a supernatural tracker on your neck."
I froze, hand still over the sore spot. My mouth opened and closed a few times. "You knew?!"
