When the Moon Hatched (Moonfall, #1)

by Sarah A. Parker

Survival’s funny. Some wear it like a whisper, others like a scream. Mine’s a scorched skeleton of flame-forged rage that keeps me upright. Keeps me moving forward.

“Chase death, Moonbeam. And I pray your bloodlust brings you the same sense of peace I feel just knowing you exist.”

Ouch.

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