I opened my eyes to sunlight slicing through the curtains, falling in a bright bar straight across the bed. The warmth pressed heavy on my skin. I tried to move and felt the exhaustion in every part of me, deep, bone-heavy, like something vital had been drained.
That wasn't a normal release, I thought, forcing myself upright. My arms trembled slightly as I pushed up. I had poured something real out of myself last night. The marking had cost me in a way regular charging never had.
A sound from the living room. Knocking, three soft, deliberate raps.
I sat up fully. The hunger arrived all at once, deeper than ordinary hunger, the specific emptiness of a body that had spent something significant. I glanced at myself in the wall mirror. Shirtless, hair disheveled, eyes shadowed with bruises of fatigue and something darker lurking beneath.
Probably Sherry, I thought, and something tightened sharply in my chest at the name.
