Chapter 19-Serena
I took my smoothie and plate of fish tacos out into the courtyard, craving solitude.
Not because I wanted to be alone.
Because I needed to figure out what the hell was happening to me without three pairs of worried eyes watching my every move.
The night air hit me the second I stepped outside—cool, sharp, almost too clean, like it stripped everything unnecessary away and left only what mattered.
The firepit in the center of the courtyard burned low, embers glowing beneath slow, deliberate flames that didn’t flicker so much as breathe.
Shadows stretched long across the rune-carved stone.
Everything here felt aware.
Not welcoming.
Not comforting.
Just watching me.
Judging me.
Asgarheim at night wasn’t a school.
It was something else entirely.
Something older.
Something that had seen things like me before—and was waiting to see what I would become.
I sat anyway.
Set the tray down in front of me.
Tried to be normal.
I picked up my fork.
Paused.
Put it back down.
My stomach twisted—not the simple, hollow ache of missing a meal.
No.
This was deeper.
Colder.
A gnawing sensation that didn’t stay in one place—it moved. Crawled. Scraped along the inside of me like something searching for an exit.
Or an entrance.
I grabbed the smoothie instead, taking a long sip.
Mango.
Sweet.
Cold.
Refreshing.
It should have helped.
It didn’t.
It tasted wrong.
Not spoiled.
Not bad.
Just empty.
Like my body rejected it on principle.
I swallowed anyway.
Took another sip.
Forced it.
The hunger didn’t dull.
It sharpened.
A sharp, jagged edge forming where there had only been discomfort before.
My breath hitched.
“What the hell…”
I pressed a hand to my stomach again, but it didn’t help.
Because it wasn’t just hunger anymore.
It was thirst.
It was need.
Something deeper than either of those things.
Like my body was calling out for something specific—and everything else was just… not it.
I picked up a taco, took a bite.
The texture was there.
The flavor.
But it didn’t land.
Didn’t satisfy.
Didn’t even register the way food was supposed to.
I chewed slowly, forcing myself to swallow, but the second it went down, the ache intensified.
My chest tightened.
My pulse sped up.
Every nerve felt too close to the surface, like my skin wasn’t thick enough to contain whatever was building underneath it.
“Okay, this is not normal,” I whispered.
The hunger answered.
Not in words.
In sensation.
A pull.
A direction.
A want.
My breath went shallow.
Because I knew—without knowing how I knew—that this wasn’t something I could fix with food.
Or water.
Or sleep.
It wasn’t physical.
Not entirely.
It was something else.
Something that had been triggered.
Something that had recognized something it needed.
And now—it wouldn’t stop asking for it.
I dropped the taco back onto the plate, appetite gone—not because I wasn’t hungry, but because nothing in front of me could touch what I actually needed.
The hollow inside me stretched wider.
Deeper.
Painful now.
A slow, insistent ache that built and built, like pressure behind a dam that wasn’t meant to hold.
I curled forward slightly, breath catching as the sensation sharpened again—low, twisting, almost unbearable.
“Why does it feel like I’m starving,” I muttered, voice thin, “when I’m literally eating?”
Because I wasn’t starving for food.
That realization hit me like a punch.
I was starving for something else.
Something my body had already chosen.
Something it was waiting for.
The air shifted.
Subtle.
But immediate.
The awareness hit me again—harder this time, slamming straight into my chest like a second heartbeat that didn’t belong to me.
My spine went rigid.
My breath caught.
Because suddenly—the hunger, the thirst, the craving focused.
All that chaotic, gnawing need snapped into something precise.
Directed.
Sharp.
Like a compass locking onto true north.
My head turned before I could stop it.
My body already moving.
Already responding.
And then—a sound.
A growl.
Low.
Familiar.
My entire body reacted.
Heat flared.
Pulse spiked.
The hollow inside me tightened instead of expanding—like it had found something to anchor to.
Something to reach for.
I didn’t even have to see him to know.
Raven.
And the worst part?
The most terrifying, undeniable truth of all?
The hunger—the real one—didn’t hurt anymore.
It waited.
“You’ll find no reprieve from your hunger on that plate, Unnasta.”
My heart stuttered before my brain caught up.
Raven.
The awareness that followed was immediate.
Electric.
My skin prickled. My throat dried further. My pulse climbed like it had been waiting for this.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, though excitement betrayed me.
He stepped forward from the darkness, tall and lethal against the firelight. His eyes glowed faintly violet, restrained but not dim.
“I’m always here.”
“Yeah? Then, why have you been avoiding me?” I countered.
“Who said I was?”
“You did.”
“I couldn’t avoid you if I tried, Unnasta.”
The word Unnasta rolled off his tongue again, and my body reacted before my pride could catch up.
God.
I hated how much I liked that word.
I hated how much I liked him.
“I’ve been watching you for weeks,” he said. “Stalking your footsteps. Trying to find the nerve to speak with you. But you retreat.”
His tone wasn’t accusatory.
It was wounded.
That hit harder.
“You’re the one who walked away and never looked back,” I said.
“After the infirmary,” he continued quietly, “I believed it was the safest thing for you.”
Safest?
“I’m sorry, but you said I was your fated mate. I thought that meant I was special. But Professor Kenna said every new student must take a test to see if they match with you,” I said, standing.
“Shit. Serena, that’s not—”
“Don’t bother lying.”
“I am not lying. I couldn’t lie to you, Unnasta. But you do deserve an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I replied immediately.
But his jaw tightened.
He wanted to talk, but I didn’t know if I was ready to listen.
Not when just looking at him seemed to rip my heart out of my chest.
“I would ask you to come with me.”
It wasn’t quite a command.
But it wasn’t a suggestion either.
I should have hesitated.
I didn’t.
The closer I moved to him, the more the hunger eased.
Not gone.
Balanced.
Like a scale finding equilibrium.
Relief poured through me so suddenly I nearly swayed.
And he felt it.
His expression shifted—subtle but unmistakable.
“Come with me. Please,” he murmured.
I swayed on my feet, and Raven’s nostrils flared as he looked down at me and raised his hands.
He brushed his fingertips down my cheek, and when my knees would have given out, he wrapped me in his arms.
And everything else disappeared.
Warmth.
Strength.
Scent—dark chocolate, aged wine, something wild and dangerous beneath it.
His embrace wasn’t just physical.
It was claiming.
Anchoring.
Possessive in a way that didn’t feel suffocating.
It felt inevitable.
“What manner of magic dwells inside you,” he murmured, voice reverent, “I would give all I am just for a taste.”
His wings unfurled around us like black silk shadows.
Shielding.
Isolating.
The world narrowed to him.
“Raven,” I breathed, tugging him down to my mouth.
The kiss ignited instantly.
No hesitation.
No soft testing.
His hunger pressed into me, and my body responded without thought.
It wasn’t delicate.
It wasn’t tentative.
It was building.
Layered.
Every kiss more consuming than the last.
His hand at my waist tightened.
His control thinned.
“Serena,” he growled, breath ragged. “Not here.”
“Then where?” I demanded.
My voice sounded wrecked.
Desperate.
He searched my face.
“Fly with me?”
One part question.
One part warning.
I nodded.
He lifted me effortlessly.
The rush of air stole my breath as we shot upward. Wind tore at my hair, my clothes, my senses. His body shielded mine from the worst of it.
His wings were enormous.
Powerful.
Beautiful.
We landed atop one of the highest towers.
The island spread beneath us—dark forests, jagged cliffs, sea crashing violently against rock.
“This is my sanctuary,” he said quietly. “No one comes here.”
Jealousy flared again before I could stop it.
“What about the other hopefuls?”
His expression hardened.
“What?”
“The compatibility testing. The hopeful matches for the Draugr.”
Anger twisted through me, ugly and defensive.
“Do you bring them here too?”
His eyes flashed.
“Your thoughts strike like battering rams,” he growled softly.
Good.
Let them.
I deserved answers.
He gestured toward the small tower chamber, and I followed.
Inside, an enormous mattress layered with blankets.
An open armoire with clothes, and weapons hanging on hooks.
A hearth.
The scent of him was everywhere.
Spicy.
Sweet.
Intimate.
Personal.
He built a fire with methodical movements.
Stalling.
“Explain,” I said, sitting on the edge of the mattress.
He turned slowly.
“The testing is not what you believe,” he said. “It is magical resonance. Potential compatibility. Nothing more.”
“How many?”
His jaw flexed.
“None.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“None have resonated.”
The air between us shifted.
“You are the first.”
The words landed heavily.
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It is the truth.”
He stepped closer.
“I have not brought another here. I have not touched another. I have not wanted to touch another as I want to touch you, Unnasta.”
The hunger flared again—not physical this time.
Emotional.
Dangerous.
“Then why does it feel like I’m one of many?” I demanded.
“Because you do not understand what I am.”
“Then tell me.”
His eyes darkened.
“I am cursed.”
The word echoed.
“My bloodline was punished. We carry hunger that does not fade. It sharpens with time. I have mastered it—mostly. But when I told you that you were my fated mate something changed.”
The confession cost him.
I could see it.
“The restraint fractured,” he continued. “The bond activated somehow. And I-I feel you constantly.”
My pulse kicked up.
“Feel what?”
“Your hunger. Your anger. Your desire. And your doubt.”
Heat crept up my neck.
“And you? What do you feel?” I asked softly.
His eyes burned.
“Hungry. For you. Always you. I fight the urge to claim you every moment.”
The words weren’t a threat.
They were honest.
“I do not trust myself,” he admitted. “Not with you.”
That hurt.
But it also made sense.
The matebond pulsed between us, undeniable.
“I feel you too,” I confessed.
His gaze sharpened.
“The hunger,” I said. “It’s not just mine.”
His nostrils flared.
“Weeks of distance have not weakened it.”
“No,” I whispered. “It’s worse.”
He stepped closer.
“So you see why I kept my distance.”
“And you see why I was angry.”
Silence stretched.
Fire crackled softly.
The castle beneath us thrummed faintly with ancient magic.
“Serena,” he said quietly. “If I lose control—I would never forgive myself.”
“I’m not fragile, Raven.”
“I know.”
His voice dropped lower.
“That is what terrifies me.”
The honesty disarmed me.
I wasn’t one of many.
I was the first.
“You are the only,” he replied.
And that meant something enormous.
Something dangerous.
“You’re reading my thoughts again,” I said softly.
“Yes.”
“Stop.”
He didn’t move.
“I can try.”
That wasn’t reassuring.
But it was real.
We stood there in the glow of firelight, balanced between instinct and restraint.
Between hunger and control.
Between fate and choice.
And for the first time since arriving at Asgarheim Runevald Institute—I didn’t feel like the freak.
I felt powerful.
Wanted.
Seen.
Which might have been more dangerous than anything else.
Because now I had something to lose.
And so did he.