The Second Death of Locke (The Hand and the Heart, #1)

by V.L. Bovalino

He never used too much of her, no matter what she said, and that was the truth—however much he needed was just as much as she was willing to give.

Kier had explained his version of attraction to her when they were teenagers: how it was less about the gender and more about the person themselves; that his taste did not lie one way or another but with whoever enchanted him at the time.

drawing his mouth to hers to swallow his answering gasp. What a treasured thing it was, to hear that noise from him—to know it belonged to her and her alone.

And Retarik laid her hand upon Kitalma’s breast. Between them, the power glowed with divine golden heat. The Isle shook as Kitalma spake, “You are mine and I am yours, and let us never again be whole.” Folklore recovered from the Isle of Locke, date unknown, author unknown

Iron to ashes, ashes to sea, sea to iron again. Let us rejoice at the memory of our victorious dead. Funeral rites of the Isle of Locke

“What is love, without freedom?” she murmured against his skin. He leaned close to kiss her shoulder, then to whisper in her ear. “What is life, without you?”