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When she finally slept, she dreamed of fire. It didn’t burn her. Rather, it warmed her gently, from the tips of her toes to the base of her skull. The fire felt familiar somehow, as if it were sent by someone she had known a long time ago. Flames licked her fingers, her palms, her arms. A single breath brushed her cheek. Then it was over.
Kiss of the Basilisk (Split or Swallow, #1)
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