Lines (Greyford Wolves, #1)

by Anna B. Doe

The line between love and hate is thin. Thinner than one strand of hair. Thinner than paper. Thinner than the petal of a flower.

We’re crossing every line that was drawn between us, our worlds—a line that’s better left uncrossed—but I can’t find it in me to care. And he sure as hell doesn’t seem to. We’re like two lost souls, searching to find something that’s been missing for a while.

“Because the line between love and hate is thin,” I murmur softly. “So fucking thin. And I love you more than I hate you.”