The Everwake was like a cornered, dying beast, holding Evangeline in a death grip.
He viciously pried her lips apart, almost violently stealing her breath. The scent of blood spread. The butterfly marking on his cheek seemed to come alive, shimmering as if about to take flight.
Their gasps intertwined, as if locked in a struggle to the death.
He suddenly ripped away the red gauze, the sound of tearing fabric exceptionally shrill against the backdrop of rain.
The next moment, The Everwake froze, his eyes fixed on the faint red marks on her snow-white skin.
He sneered and bit down hard. His teeth pierced her flesh, covering the old marks and branding new ones over them, searing his scent and his presence into her skin inch by inch.
Evangeline didn't even furrow her brow.
