Chapter 23 23
Kimberly’s POV
Waking didn’t feel like a good thing. It felt like being dragged up from a deep sleep, my body lagging behind my mind, my senses returning in pieces instead of all at once. I lay still, staring at a ceiling that wasn’t mine, trying to remember how I got here and why everything felt slightly off.
I pushed myself up too quickly, breath catching as the room tilted for a second before settling. My hand flew to my wrist on instinct, fingers pressing against the mark like I expected it to flare up again.
But it wasn’t gone either. The skin felt warmer than the rest of me, not painful,
“You’re awake.” I turned immediately.
Julian stood near the far side of the room, posture still, eyes on me in a way that felt too focused to be casual. He hadn’t moved closer, hadn’t tried to touch me again, but his attention didn’t waver.
“How long have I been out cold?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
“Not long, the important thing is you're awake now,”
I swung my legs off the bed and stood, slower this time, testing my balance before taking a step forward. My body held, but there was a faint lightness in my head that hadn’t fully disappeared.
“That didn’t feel like ‘not long,’” I said, brushing my hair back as I looked at him properly. “That felt like something went wrong.”
His gaze dropped briefly to my wrist before returning to my face. “You reacted to the mark.”
“I figured that part out.”
“It’s progressing faster than it should.”
“Stop saying things like that, it is scary,” I snapped lightly. “Progressing into what?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and I could already feel the frustration building again, sitting right under my skin.
“The connection,” he said finally.
A small pause followed that, not tense, just heavy with everything neither of us was saying properly.
I looked down at my wrist again. The mark hadn’t changed shape, hadn’t spread, hadn’t done anything dramatic, but it felt different now. More like something that had settled in.
I didn’t like that thought.
“This started before I passed out,” I said slowly, thinking it through out loud. “That sound… it shouldn’t have hit me like that.”
“It didn’t,” he replied.
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means your hearing picked it up differently.”
I looked back up at him. “Differently how?”
“Stronger,” he said. “Sharper. Your body is responding to things it didn’t before.”
“That’s not normal.”
“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”
There was no comfort in that answer.
I ran a hand over my face, trying to steady my thoughts. “So this mark is changing how I… what, function?”
“It’s not meant to harm you.”
“Then why did I pass out?” That landed harder than anything else.
“Because your body isn’t used to it yet.”
I dropped my hand from my face and looked at him properly again, searching for something—certainty, control, anything that would make it seem like he actually had this handled.
“What happens if you don't ‘get used to it’?” I asked.
His expression shifted slightly, not enough to panic me, but enough to make me pay attention.
“It will,” he said.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have right now.”
I stared at him for a second longer, then looked away, pacing once across the room before stopping again. My thoughts wouldn’t sit still. Every answer led to something worse, every explanation opened up something new I didn’t understand.
I let out a slow breath, then glanced back at my wrist again, pressing lightly against the mark. The warmth was still there, faint but constant, like a low current running under my skin.
“This is insane,” I muttered.
“I agree, but panicking won’t fix it.”
“I’m not panicking,” I said, even though my voice came out tighter than I wanted.
His gaze held mine for a second, like he was about to say something else. Then he stopped.
The shift was small, almost invisible, but I noticed it, the way his focus moved past me, the way his posture changed just enough to make the air feel different.
“What?” I asked, turning slightly.
He didn’t answer. That alone made my chest tighten again.
“Julian.”
“Stay where you are.”
That wasn’t a suggestion. I frowned, looking back at him. “Why?”
“Because you’re not the only one who can feel it.”
My stomach dropped slightly. “Feel what?”
He stepped closer this time, faster, his hand closing around my arm before I could move again. His grip wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t loose either.
“Don’t move,” he said.
“What is going on?”
My body tensed before my mind caught up, a quiet unease settled into my chest as something unfamiliar pressed at the edges of my awareness.I turned my head slowly, scanning the space without thinking, my senses suddenly sharper in a way that made everything.
“You feel that?” I asked quietly.
“Yes.”
That made it worse.
My fingers tightened slightly against his sleeve without me realizing it. “Who is it?” He didn’t answer.
A soft sound came from somewhere behind us. I turned instinctively. He was standing near the doorway, calm, composed, like he had been there longer than we realized.
It was London.
My breath caught slightly, not from fear exactly, but from the way everything seemed to connect too quickly.
Julian’s grip on my arm tightened just enough to keep me from stepping forward.
I didn’t move. But my eyes didn’t leave London either.
He looked different, but with the same arrogant ease, not the careless confidence he usually carried around like it meant nothing.
This time, his attention was focused, he locked directly on me.
Then his gaze dropped to my wrist. That was enough to make my stomach tighten.
“So it’s true,” he said quietly.
I swallowed, my pulse picking up again. “What do you mean?”
His eyes lifted back to mine.
“You’re already marked by him.”