Book 1 & 2

Bol

The Vale townhouse on Belgrave Square always felt like a mu-seum of everything I didn't belong to. Marble floors stretchedbeneath my feet like frozen rivers of light, and Baccaratchandeliers hung overhead like captured constellations, eachprism refracting a thousand tiny flames. I moved carefullythrough the crowd, my Dolce & Gabbana gown swishingagainst the polished stone, Louboutins clicking softly, as ifthe sound alone could anchor me here.My skin, warm cinnamon with a golden glow, felt almost tooalive under the candlelight. I caught my reflection in one of theenormous mirrors lining the hall and barely recognized theporcelain perfection staring back at me: flawless, symmetrical, almost unreal. My grey ash-blonde hair framed my face in softwaves, tumbling to my shoulders, and my gold-blue eyes-glass-like and luminous-surveyed the room with detachedcuriosity.I didn't belong here. I never had. And yet, something insideme hummed with anticipation, like the air itself was vibratingin response to something unseen. I could feel it before I sawhim.

Amazon

Pagina's: 282, Paperback, Dove Rowell