Aaliyah Mashhour

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“Cas?” I glanced back at him, my brows raised. “I don’t think I’ve told you this,” he began, his amber gaze sliding to mine, “but Poppy looks just as ravishing in armor as she does in her sleeping gown.” “Fucking gods,” I muttered. “You really don’t have any sense of self-preservation, do you?”
The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash, #6)
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