“Its body was like the roots of a tree, all gnarled and twisted. The edges of it hung limply like ribbons, thin and translucent as flakes of skin.” He leaned even closer, bringing his voice down to a whisper. A warmness began in Isobel’s stomach that felt less like fear and more like desire. She scolded herself. She shouldn’t be feeling attraction during such an unnerving story—and to the very boy keeping her prisoner, no less. It was simply because they were a hair’s breadth apart in a bed, the lights dimmed low, and Alistair had a smile that looked wicked in more ways than
