THE MORNING stretched endlessly before her, each tick of the grandfather's clock in the corner marking time with agonizing precision.
Mailah found herself pacing the length of the library, Grayson's note clutched in her hand like a talisman against the growing anxiety that clawed at her chest.
Two days remain.
The words echoed in her mind with the persistence of a funeral bell. Two days before Grayson would have to feed from her, before their carefully constructed mental sanctuary would be put to the ultimate test.
The thought of it sent shivers through her—not entirely from fear, she realized with startling honesty, but from anticipation that burned like liquid fire in her veins.
She had felt his hunger last night, seen the way his control had frayed at the edges when she'd reached for him in her sleep.
The memory of his promises—when this is over, I'm going to worship every inch of you—made her skin flush with heat even in the cool morning air.
