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“Answer me, Moonbeam.” There’s an edge to his voice that whips me from my reverie. Reminds me that I’m a prisoner of yet another vicious Vaegor—dancing from one shackle to the next. The world shreds past beneath us while I mull over Kaan’s question . . . Am I okay? “Yes,” I whisper, cradling the strange, giddy feeling with a gentleness I didn’t realize I possessed, worried it’ll break if I squeeze too hard. “I’m okay.”
Cut me if you want me to stop . . . Take what you want . . . Are you sure you want this, Moonbeam?
“They are fighting for the great honor of being bound to you. The honor of building a life and producing offspring with Kholu is the greatest one could wish for. To pin the moons to the sky for good will ensure the future for offspring of the entire Johkull Clan, and their offspring, and theirs. To secure such peace is a great privilege.”
Is this GoT? Khaleesi and the Dothraki clan?
Eyes wide, I search the sky, chasing the cloud’s mournful tears as they sing their fatal song.
“Chase death, Moonbeam. And I pray your bloodlust brings you the same sense of peace I feel just knowing you exist.”
Those drinks should’ve come with big, bold warning signs.
Why is this bitch so stubborn
