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“He gave my hair a final, gentle tug and turned away. I watched him go, Hunger and longing and that strange squirmy feeling twisting my insides. Crawling into my tent, I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to sleep, to forget Ezekiel Crosse. His touch. His warmth. And how badly I wanted to sink my fangs into his throat and truly mine.” — Julie Kagawa
He gave my hair a final, gentle tug and turned away. I watched him go, Hunger and longing and that strange squirmy feeling twisting my insides. Crawling into my tent, I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to sleep, to forget Ezekiel Crosse. His touch. His warmth. And how badly I wanted to sink my fangs into his throat and truly mine.