It was not until he had such a true treasure that he knew what it was to live without, and he refused to return to such an existence. He growled at the very thought, unwilling to even consider it. No, she was his, and he would never give her up. She was his to do with as he pleased, to pleasure, to worship, to share blood with. He was going to fuck her, as she had asked in the rough way vampires did, without any fear of breaking their toys, sustaining them with their blood. It was not something he often took part in, and had not done so for a few centuries, but with Rosamund... Anything.
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