Eldritch (The Eating Woods, #2)

by Keri Lake

You were not meant to become a delicate flower, but the frost that wilts the vine.

“I would call you the soft glow of moonlight in a pitch-black world. A prayer I never spoke aloud, but somehow the gods answered anyway. The strike of lightning I dare to behold without flinching.” His brow flickered as he ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “The reason I breathe.”