Burning Ivy (KORT, #1)

by Brandy Hynes

I’m tattooing that sentence—along with his scent and touch and rasp—on my soul.

If I could live only one snippet of life, it would be a string of endless Octobers.

“Your family died in a tornado, but you call me Little Storm. Why?” His arms tighten around me. “Sometimes, storms come to decimate everything we deem important. Other times, they come to clear our path.” “Which one am I?” “Both,” he rasps.