Victoria was so wrong about me. I expected them to put me first, above everyone else.I am selfish. I am weak. I am bad.And I need Jasper. I need him like I need air to breathe. No—somehow, that cliché doesn’t seem quite right. He’s more like a shot of whiskey after a hard day. A burst of heroin in my burning veins.He is my drug. My ambrosia.I can’t live without him.
-S.L. Stacy
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