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Too long have we lain trapped within bars of fear. Too long have our roars of protest gone unheard. But no longer.
The thought that Scythe might get territorial over me is laughable at best, and disturbing at worst.
My playful wolf is not right in the head.
“My beautiful, stunning, gorgeous regina, with eyes like a warm summer’s night. May I, pretty please with five cherries on top, eat your pussy and fuck you senseless?”
“Let me eat from you,” he growls. “Let me devour you.”
“Daddy shark do-do-do,” I sing. “Daddy shark do-do-do-do.” I lick my lips. “It’s a children’s song. Do you know it, gang boss?”

