Broken Souls and Bones (Stonegate, #1)

by L.J. Andrews

To those who won’t admit they wish the love interest was the villain every time. I see you.

I was once told we never truly knew another soul until we saw the darkness they kept inside.

The Sentry placed his palm against my cheek. I stiffened, eyes closed. But all he did was tap my face three times.

Pulse racing, I touched where Ashwood held his hand. Three taps—his gesture for claiming something as his. It meant mine.

To harm the living, craft mirrors the pain. To split the soul, craft sacrifices the blood. To curse the body, craft devours the mind. To bind dead and living, craft corrupts the heart.

“You’ve done something to dig under his skin, and I must know what it was, for he is the most infallible, unruffled ass I’ve ever met.”

I was in a damn tree house.