He stepped into a shaft of moonlight, and I saw them—shadows moving under his skin, the faint, terrible beauty of something not human. A fallen angel. My guardian. My damnation.
"Do I know you?" I asked, my voice a stranger's.
I had chosen him once. I would choose him again. Fisilti - Becca Fitzpatrick
Then I saw him. Leaning against a graveyard oak, black jeans soaked through, a crooked smile that didn't reach his haunted eyes. The rain parted around him, as if even the sky knew to kneel.
"Who are you?"
I stopped. The air turned electric. Every cell in my body screamed run , but my feet betrayed me, stepping closer.
I didn't know him. But my soul did.
Patch.
