Silas

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Murphy said, “You want to feed on me.” Felicia ran a very pink tongue over her upper lip, her eyes growing paler. “I do. Very much.” Murphy frowned and nodded. Then she whipped the pistol in a bone-breaking stroke, smashing it into the vampire’s jaw. “Yes!” I hissed, clenching my hands into fists.
Ghost Story (The Dresden Files, #13)
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