I don’t want this book on my shelf. I want it in my veins.
Rina Kent’s longest book being about Yulian and Vaughn feels less like a release and more like a premeditated crime. More pages. More obsession. More irreversible damage to my sanity.
I already know this is the kind of book that ruins sleep schedules, raises standards, and leaves you staring at a wall afterward wondering what just happened to you.
Someone sedate me until March 24 or invent time travel. I am not built for anticipation, only for spiraling.
To those who made a ruckus when Rina said Vaughn’s book would be MM romance—
wo_fucking_hooooo, motherfuckers *insert Yulian’s voice*