“He spoke in Keriv’i, soft, slow words that floated over her like honey. She felt the cadence of them, the rhythm, like the words were a dance of gentle sways and spins. She went a little dizzy at their beauty and her lips parted, tingles radiating up and down her spine as she listened to his whispers.”

“He spoke in Keriv’i, soft, slow words that floated over her like honey. She felt the cadence of them, the rhythm, like the words were a dance of gentle sways and spins. She went a little dizzy at their beauty and her lips parted, tingles radiating up and down her spine as she listened to his whispers.”

— Zoey Draven