When the Moon Hatched (Moonfall, #1)

by Sarah A. Parker

“Moonbeam.” “Hmm . . .” “Please don’t scare me like that again.” Scare? What a nice thing to say. “You shouldn’t spend such lovely words on me, Sire,” I murmur groggily, wishing I didn’t find such comfort in his scent. In the feel of his arms wrapped around me. In him. “You should save them for somebody special.” His guttural growl is the last thing I hear before darkness consumes me.

I think I’m learning how to exist without shackles and expectations. Without the hurt and the crippling fear of loss that hacks my head from my heart. I think I’m learning what it means to live.

“I envy the dragons, Kaan. They worship death so beautifully. We just . . . lose. Left with nothing but ghosts and memories that feel like wounds.”

“I don’t like this.” “I know you don’t,” he murmurs, reaching up to tuck a tendril of hair behind my clipped ear. “Growing pains are called pains for a reason.”