Marcel had seen death before—too many times to count—but nothing could prepare him for the sight of her lying lifeless in his arms. He had barely gotten to her in time, barely managed to get vampire blood into her system before she slipped away. And now, she was coming back.

Her first breath was a gasp, sharp and desperate, as she jolted upright. Panic flashed in her wide eyes as she clutched her chest, feeling for a heartbeat that was no longer there.

“Easy, easy,” Marcel murmured, his hands settling on her shoulders, grounding her. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Her gaze snapped to his, searching for something—answers, reassurance, anything to make sense of what was happening. “Marcel… I—” Her voice trembled, her breathing uneven.

“I know,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I know it’s a lot. But you’re here. And I’m right here with you.”

She shook her head, pressing her palm against her chest again. “I don’t feel right.”

Marcel swallowed hard. He knew what was coming. The hunger. The overwhelming thirst that would claw at her until she gave in.

“I won’t let you go through this alone,” he promised, his grip tightening just slightly. “You’re gonna feel things—stronger, sharper. And yeah, it’s gonna hurt. But I’ve got you. We do this together, okay?”