Wild Wolf (Darkmore Penitentiary, #4)

by Caroline Peckham

I blinked and two tears spilled down my cheeks, racing one another towards their demise, their easy escape from the agony within me making me jealous of their brief existence.

I was brutal and powerful, fragile and fickle. I was a thousand unheard wishes and one potent demand.

We were cracked in all the hurty places, but together we filled each other’s wounds and laced each other’s scars in bliss.

But that’s the thing about arrogant stronzos in their ivory towers, they never expect the dogs they kick to bite back.”

I am what I am and most of the world don’t have time for different.” “I have time,” he said, his arm brushing mine.

He turned to me, his eyes frantic, that usual coolness about him lost to terror. I had that effect on people. Maybe it was the way I did my hair, or how I dressed.