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“You have the kind of face that steals a man’s breath away and eyes that’ll make him bow down at your feet and kill for you.”
Bram shakes his head. He doesn’t speak. He can’t. Someone cut out half of his tongue before we met. He can sign and use text-to-speech on a special device Freddie bought him to communicate, but he rarely chooses to. I’ve grown to understand Bram from his head tilts and expressions. For someone who can’t talk, he can be a real pain in my arse.
