Hundreds (Dollar, #3)

by Pepper Winters

Sensuality had nothing on him. Elder was the dictionary definition of sensual from the way his muscles clenched in need, his nostrils flared in want, and his lust wound tightly in constraint.

His care was all about raising me to be his equal because there I was strong enough to give him what he ultimately wanted.

He had a soul. And it was a vibrant, throbbing thing visible, not just in his eyes, but in every nuance, kiss, and motion.

He was stunning when unhurt. But he was drool-worthy slightly beaten up.

“A soul is priceless and could never have a monetary sum attached. Net worth might make a difference in this life, but when we die, we’re all worth the same.”

“We’re worth the weight of what we leave behind. The people we’ve touched. The lives we’ve shared. The knowledge we’ve gathered and traded. Physically, we’re worth the dust our corpses turn

swallowed a star and glowed with it.