Bad Lands (Savage Lands, #4)

by Stacey Marie Brown

“Gods, Brex, even without your magic, danger still seems to be drawn to your ass.” I unfolded the paper Lena gave me. An address was written out roughly. The location of the factory. I exhaled, folding it back up. “Like a fuckin’ G-string.”

LIKE A FUCKIN G STRING LMFAO

“Seeing you tonight made it extremely clear.” “What?” “Before you, nothing I ate had any taste.” His mouth almost grazed mine. “All I could smell was death. Nothing but killing made me feel anything. Then you walked into my life.” His hand slid under my jaw. “And I don’t see just gray. I feel, smell, taste, and want to fuck you in every color.”

OKAY I'M SWEATING

“Kovacs.” He gripped my face, an emotion I had never seen flicker in his eyes. A naughty grin tugged his mouth. “I fuckin’ missed you.” He could write that on my tombstone, because with four words, he obliterated what was left of me. From him, those words were everything.

People considered “breaking” a sign of weakness. I disagreed. Bending meant you could be molded and shaped into something else. I may be full of dents, scars, and trauma, but whatever they did to me, they could not bend and form me into their idea. They turned me rigid. Titanium. I broke; I did not bend. I snapped; I did not bow. They did not twist and cast me into something different. My broken pieces could be forged together. Made stronger.