To Flame a Wild Flower (Crystal Bloom, #3)

by Sarah A. Parker

I frantically reinforce my domes again … Play the fucking part.

Shes occluding

You can’t escape me, Milaje. You’ll have to trap me in an iron coffin and drop me in the middle of the fucking ocean, and even then, I’ll haunt your dreams. Your nightmares. I’ll haunt you even when you try to die.

Find soft little mate sparkly rock for big sorry. Little man poke soft little mate with tiny love stick.

I'm laughing and cringing

he dashes sweat from his forehead, then walks to an axe lodged in a stump. He rips it free. My heart stills.

She would love lumberjack tok

“Can you …” I break his stare, looking down at the shears in my hand as a lump forms in the back of my throat that’s hard to swallow past. “Can you cut my hair?”

Trauma = haircut

Oblivious to the fact that I just fell even more in love with him. We’re two monsters in the dark,

Two bacons in love

The fire is out. No light is left to illuminate her besides the sporadic bolts scribbling across the sky. But I don’t need light to see her. She glows within me like a fucking star.

I look up to see him still watching me as he scoops another heap into his mouth, chewing. Swallowing. Such simple things, but it makes me feel like the wealthiest woman in the world. This might just be my favorite moment ever.

Its giving ch 55

A stark realization dawns … “There’s only one bed.” Two of us. Rhordyn begins scrubbing the dishes. “Perfectly aware, Orlaith.”

I thought my home was a castle sitting on the edge of a cliff, looking over a bay that’s shaped like a monster bit the shore. I thought my home was a tower poked through the clouds, with my rocks and my paints and my plants. But I’d happily live right here for the rest of eternity and never feel another pang of homesickness.

“My love will tear you apart.” He digs his hand into the hair at the back of my head. “Then I’ll die a happy man,” he snarls, and crushes our lips together in a clash of desperate, wild abandon.

“Your first mistake was assuming a measly four-letter word could encapsulate the way I feel for her,” I say, tilting my head to the side, slicing Mersi with a stare I hope she feels all the way to her bones. “Your second was assuming I’ll ever let her go. Make a third and we’re done.”