Robert Moore

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she looked right at him, the last dying rays of the eastern sun illuminating her face. In the faux light, her eyes were as golden as the petals of the lumia, a desert flower that grew only in the south’s arid climate. The lumia was lovely to look at, but when its petals were ground into a paste it became a deadly poison if ingested.
Fatemarked (The Fatemarked Epic, #1)
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