Kyra

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“No,” she repeated, tugging off his pants with that cool, swift efficiency. “But after last night … I do not want to delay.” “I will—I can …” He ground his teeth. “We’ll find a way to protect you while you research.” He hated the words, felt them curl like rancid milk on his tongue, along his throat.
Tower of Dawn (Throne of Glass, #6)
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