More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
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.
Around him . . . sometimes words just feel inadequate.
“Chase death, Moonbeam. And I pray your bloodlust brings you the same sense of peace I feel just knowing you exist.”
With his beast at my back and this massive, impenetrable male at my front, I should feel small. I don’t. He’s only ever made me feel vast. Mighty, even.
