Kirsten Corter

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Six dragons of varying scale tones fill the beach, and all of them rival the size of Sgaeyl. Their massive claws dig into the sand as they lower their heads one by one. My breath falters. We didn’t find the irids; they found us. We did it. They’re here. Steam gusts across my face, and my stomach clenches. They’re here and really close with really big teeth.
Onyx Storm (The Empyrean #3)
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