Erica Ragland

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“Will I ever be free, Florian?” His thick brows lowered. As the riders and wagons began to fill the drive, I stepped closer and laid my hand over the black leather covering his chest. “Will you ever let me go?” The wind whistled and threw my hair around my cheeks, Florian’s expression and jaw granite and his touch falling away. “Never, butterfly.”
Nectar of the Wicked (Deadly Divine, #1)
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