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“You can’t even fight off fae glamour.” He motioned to me. “How could you supersede a fae treasure?”
A wicked smile teased my mouth. “Don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
“I am the nectar.”
A wicked smile teased my mouth. “Don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
“I am the nectar.”
All I understood was that Warwick and I walked the line, and even if we lived in the gray, we fucked in color.
I don't really like Stacey's writing but this is so poetic 🌷🌷
“Te valodi vagy… sötét démonom.”
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