When the Moon Hatched (Moonfall, #1)

by Sarah A. Parker

With their long silky tails and eyes a crush of glitter and ink.

And I’m absolutely not here to accidentally trip this male and watch him tumble down the stairs. Absolutely not.

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.

Make yourself indispensable and folk dig their claws in. Doesn’t matter if they’re good or bad or somewhere in the middle. If there’s anything I’ve learned from this life, it’s that.

“Mentally strangling you as we speak,”

other part of me is utterly opposed to, and I consider whether it’s prudent to ask this male if he’d like to fuck before I slit his throat . . . Probably shouldn’t.

“And I’m not kneeling before you for fear of being kicked in the head hard enough to knock me out cold so you can steal a blade from the drawer, slit my throat, and escape.” Valid concern, honestly.