Morgan Gonzalez

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Shadows surge from the armoire, and I catch the glint of metal a heartbeat before the bands of darkness hold a dagger to within inches of my chin. I gasp, then lock every muscle. “What the fuck, Xaden?” “Am I going to hurt you?” The carpet makes his bootsteps nearly silent as he crosses the room, giving me plenty of time to object or retreat, but I don’t.
Iron Flame (The Empyrean, #2)
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