alex (existential crisis™️)

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Power resembled pheromones; everyone had a unique flavor. But Lincoln motherfuckin’ Stone . . . He tasted off. Scarred. Defying death by way of brutality, lust, passion—deep, unyielding want—had left him smoky and well-worn.
Wolf, Willow, Witch (The Gideon Testaments, #2)
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