One day I’m rescuing a wounded wolf in the woods. Next, I’m tripping over a naked guy with rippling abs, making coffee in my kitchen at Gravenshade Hall.
He says his name is Wynter. That he’s fae. That I once spent a year in Faery, dancing under moonlight like some enchanted puppet. Thankfully, I don’t remember a second of it.
I'm twenty-five,...
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