The Puppeteer (Harrow Faire, #2)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

“Reach your arm between your legs. Pull your head through your knees.” “Fuck you!” “Don’t tempt me right now, Cora.” Something about his words were dark. Thick. He meant it.

The smell of an antique store washed over her. Dust, and age, and that old-fashioned cologne he wore, and the hint of sawdust and paint.

i wonder how many times she’s gonna describe his smell with these exact words