Bree Merritt

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she had and where she’d gotten it. “Nismera gave me a present,” she said. Milani twisted the dagger as if that would help the magic seep faster into my blood, and perhaps it did. My vision blurred as a deep, aching pain sliced through my head. She leaned forward as the poison continued to leach into my body. “You will love only me, want only me. For eternity.” My mind grew fuzzy, but I heard her whispered chant. She repeated it over and over as if she hoped that speaking the words at the right time would enslave me to her.
The Wrath of the Fallen (Gods & Monsters, #4)
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