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He stiffened at her words. The thought of Dorothy killing anyone made him irrationally protective of her and her still-pure heart.
Tin gripped the fabric over his chest. Something behind his breastbone cracked, shattered, exploded and a painful pounding suddenly assaulted him from the inside out. He gasped, his wide gaze locking onto Dorothy’s sleeping form. The raging pulse in his ears, the heavy thump thump thump beneath his ribs. His heart. It was back. Fuck!
Tin had heard how love was made of magic—perhaps
