Deacon (The Sovereign Mountain, #3)

by Raya Morris Edwards

The world has made it clear that sex will change me, but men, they reincarnate themselves before the bed is cold. Sin doesn’t stick to them, somehow.

There’s something sad about her, like the last breath of autumn before a freeze.

I’m shattering into a thousand pieces, and yet, he’s at the center, holding me together.

Every time I reel her back down from wherever she lives in her head—up in the sky, sitting on the edge of the moon—she feels fragile in my hand. Like if the winds change, she’ll blow away.

I want to drink her down, to breathe only the air from her body.