Its been six weeks,” he murmured. “Six weeks I’ve wanted you. I know how you move, and how the sunlight makes a shadow on the curve of your cheek, and the shape of your ear.”...

Then you came and I started to feel again. I started to think there was a reason I survived, that you were my reason. But nothing’s so simple, is it? I didn’t protect you. Here...

My books are mine, and yet they are alien to me–as a child belongs to a parent and yet has a life of its own. I can guide and hope and nudge my characters this...