Bree Merritt

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The dark man drew my attention as he shifted in his seat, resting his chin on his fist. His lips quirked, and his eyes held a seductive invitation as he stared at her. Nismera smiled at him, a glow touching her cheeks. With how the two of them looked at each other, I hoped I was wrong about her age. He was well past her senior, regardless of eternal, immortal beauty.
The Wrath of the Fallen (Gods & Monsters, #4)
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