Karla Astudillo

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Penn Cole
“Go ahead,” he breathed. “Lie to me. I already know the answer. I know you feel my power.” His chin rose, our lips so very, very close. “Because I can feel yours, too.” No. No. He smirked. “You’re no more mortal than I am.”
Penn Cole, Spark of the Everflame

Penn Cole
“What if our story isn’t over, Diem Bellator? What if it’s only beginning?”
Penn Cole, Spark of the Everflame

Penn Cole
“You think I fear my own death?” he whispered in my ear. “Every day I draw breath is as much a curse as a gift. I’ve been living on borrowed time for longer than you can imagine. If you’re the way my fate finally catches up to me, I can’t fathom a more beautiful end.”
Penn Cole, Spark of the Everflame

Penn Cole
“You saw it too, didn’t you?” I stopped, but I didn’t look back. “Last night,” he said, “right before the roof collapsed. The vision. The battlefield.” I couldn’t move, my body paralyzed, my thoughts stunned to stillness. “What if our story isn’t over, Diem Bellator? What if it’s only beginning?”
Penn Cole, Spark of the Everflame

Penn Cole
“You know, Diem,” he growled, “I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about you, wondering if you’re the best liar I’ve ever met or the worst. I think I finally know the answer.” He placed his palms flat against the wall, ensnaring me between his arms. “The only person you’re good at lying to is yourself.”
Penn Cole

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