Daemon was sprawled on his back, one arm stretched across the space beside him and the other rested across his bare stomach. Sheets were twisted around his narrow hips. His face was almost angelic in sleep, chiselled lines softened and lips relaxed. Thick lashes fanned the top of his cheeks. He looked so much younger at rest but, in a weird way, he was even more out of my league. His kind of masculine beauty was otherworldly and intimidating. Something that existed in between the pages of the books I read. Sometimes I had a hard time convincing myself he was real.

Author: Jennifer L. Armentrout