His Scorching Gaze

My name is Alaric Thorn, twenty-one years old, and my life has always been guided by one principle: follow the whim of the moment. Seraphina Crowe is the younger sister of my best friend, someone I should have labeled strictly off-limits. The first time I pushed open that door, the afternoon sun was spilling across the delicate line of her collarbone. She was curled up on the bed, headphones in, like a drowsy cat. From that instant, some forbidden feeling began to grow wild, twisting like an unchecked vine. I thought I could keep it under control. I was wrong. The space between us became like water heating through a long summer—calm on the surface, but churning with hidden currents underneath. Until that dusk, when we sped out into the fading light and came face to face with something unnamable on the mountain road, caught between life and—