Moonbound At Sliver Ridge
I said, “and you’ll beg for death long before you get it.”
The house purred—actually purred—at their silence.
I left them frozen.
Rory held her on the bed, silver hair spilling like liquid moonlight, lips soft and parted, the bare column of her throat begging for a mark that belonged to me. To us. I imagined her saying my name—hoarse, ruined, wrecked—and filed it away.
Lila edged forward, hand out, voice cracking.
“Please… she’s my best friend.”
Of course we knew that. We had always heard of our little sister best friend. The one that was insanely smart but shamed for no bloodline. Rhea Morgan.
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