When the Moon Hatched (Moonfall, #1)

by Sarah A. Parker

He’s watching me with a haunting intensity that threatens to peel off one of the many calluses crusting my heart. A look that presses against my chest. My soul. The sort of look that buckles spines, heartstrings, and knees in the same swift strike.

damn my old ass kindle for not having the emojis…'insert heart emoji here'

I pulled away with the key in my hand, just unlocking the door when he gripped me from behind, swung me around, ripped off my veil, and kissed me with such ravenous intention I lost myself. Found myself. It was the kiss of someone who wanted to give me everything. Take nothing. Yet I gave him my whole heart anyway. Realized it was rightfully his. That it had been for some time.

“Raeve, you could flay me down the middle and I’d still fucking love you.” All the breath shoves from my lungs. Love . . . The word is a quiet death that slips away without so much as a whispered goodbye—an abrupt shove into an eternal loneliness I’ll never deign myself to claw free of. “Such a waste of that big, beautiful heart,” I whisper, and his eyes flare.

“Your hands know me,” she whispers. “Yes,” I murmur against her hair. “Know you, crave you, worship you.”