Dylan
https://www.goodreads.com/soulciel
“Their faces were so close—she had the advantage of height over Ayla, and something about staring down into Ayla's face, even when it was all twisted with indignant anger, made Crier's blood sing.”
― Crier's War
― Crier's War
“She carried the same intensity about her, like heat waves rising from her skin, even though she was just standing in the doorway and not currently in the middle of saving Crier's life. Like she was more than a human girl. Like she was a summer storm made flesh.”
― Crier's War
― Crier's War
“Which illness gives you stomach pains and a limp," Crier muttered, helping Ayla through the green door of the inn.
"A bad one," Ayla retorted.”
― Crier's War
"A bad one," Ayla retorted.”
― Crier's War
“Ayla was as silent as the storm was loud in Crier's head. Her heart raced.”
― Crier's War
― Crier's War
“I have a heart like you, Ayla." Crier repeated, pressing Ayla's hand harder against her chest. Ayla heard her own heartbeat and felt Crier's—a song tapping against her palm, a racing pulse beneath her fingers. Ayla was breathing too hard. She was breathing too hard. "I feel things too," Crier whispered.”
― Crier's War
― Crier's War
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