No one ever had, or ever really would, mistake Hazel Sinclair for being normal. It just wasn't in her character; it wasn't in her stony eyes, or in the way she held herself, something reminiscent of a predator; lithe and calculated. It wasn't in the way her body was sculpted; meticulously refined, poised, deliberate, and almost statuesque, she gave the impression that she was made of marble; and if you touched her, you would be surprised to find her skin like an open flame rather than smoothened rock. She was the sort of dangerous your instincts knew to avoid, but also the kind of special your instincts knew you would never find again. Of course Grace Daniels knew that from the second she saw her. She knew it as she and Hazel were thrust together by fate, and Megan, time and time again. She knew it as they fought against each other, but kept returning every time they thought they had escaped. She knew it especially when Hazel had discarded her clothes and borne all of her marvels and scars; she was certainly not made of stone or steel. . . . [Revised Edition of Kira Greer (@ZephyrHeart)'s The Night School] . . . TRIGGER WARNING: this work contains mature themes and explicit content. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised. Asterisks [**] will be added to the end of chapter titles to indicate potentially triggering content. [Seriously, this isn't meant to be a light read. I'll do my best to fuck with your feels and my characters. Also, cursing. We curse here. It's more realistic, even if Wattpad doesn't like it in the comments.]

Rhiannon I like my liquor how I enjoy my women: Straight, heady and with the promise of burning me. The plan was simple. Hustle, don't get caught, don't get killed, repeat. Love was not in it. Weaknesses were not allowed. Until Sierra. Fucking. Sweeney. God, I wanted to hate her. She lured herself into my soul like a slow deadly Venom, put my Demons to sleep with a single touch, brought me to my knees with her big sad hazel eyes. I wanted to hate her, but she was an addiction I was craving. And like a drug, She might just be the Death of Me. *** Sierra To the world, she was stone cold. Hidden behind a mask of marble. Murderous, Threatening and Deadly. But to me, Rhiannon Ortega was like catnip. A beautifully flawed misunderstood abstract painting I wanted to learn each stroke of brush by heart. And learn, I did. Nothing could've prepared me to face the Demons hidden behind her haunted eyes. They say, be careful what you wish for. I say, there is no rose without thorns. **This is a steamy f/f dark romance with many dark themes and flawed characters. Please look at the trigger warnings on page 1 before reading.**