Lor (Monstrous, #7)

by Lily Mayne

Ten years. What had his skin tasted like? I could still remember his scent—I had eaten more lokl in the last ten years than the previous forty of my life. But it wasn’t quite right—it was warm and soft like his scent, but still missing something. Something that had been uniquely him. Were his eyes really as blue as the jewel in my lip, or had I misremembered? I still had dreams of him smiling and laughing and gazing down at me in the bed, but the colour of his eyes in those dreams was wrong now, I was sure of it. It wasn’t bright enough. Ten years. I couldn’t remember what it felt like to laugh. I remembered laughing with him, nervously at first, when I had still been shy and unsure during our meetings in the guestroom. Then with my whole belly, harder than I had ever laughed before, as we curled up in bed together and talked for hours.