Yazmin Cisneros

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He pulled me to him, holding me so tight there was no chance of me slipping off. “You’re all right?” he said into my hair. My words choked in the back of my throat. “Rafe,” was all I could say. His hand stroked my head, crushed my hair, his breaths calming as he held me. “You’re all right,” he repeated, this time it seemed, more to himself than to me.
The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles, #3)
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