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21
Serayah Morgan. I stepped out of the castle. I don’t even know where I’m going—I just keep walking, pretending that if I put enough distance between myself and the Moon Grave Castle, it’ll erase what happened. But it won’t. His lips. His full lips. His stupid, hot tongue and how he tasted—like rain, like mint, like the coldest drops of water hitting your skin after a heatwave. I shiver, even though it’s not cold. Maybe I can breathe outside of the castle. That’s what I tell myself. Away from him. From what his kiss did to me. The way the kiss wasn’t just hungry but like a man who knew exactly how to take what he wanted—but it was gentle, too. And that’s the problem. He kissed me like I mattered. I let it happen longer than I should’ve. And then reality slammed into me like a slap whe
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