Michaela Nardone

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And just as she began to bring it down, the room plunged into an eerie, static silence. The candles snuffed out. The room fell to slow, ominous darkness, shadows painting across my vision like bandages winding around and around and around us all. And a voice, quiet and booming at once, said, “Get your hands off my wife.”
The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)
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