He gestured to the bookcase. “These all document much happier times. My European travels through the Renaissance. Dancing in the courts of France. Learning to paint in Florence. Great love affairs—” “Love affairs?” I pulled back, hating how my voice pitched up. A smile tugged at his mouth. “Don’t be jealous.” “I’m not!” But my face heated, and his knowing look didn’t help. His smile grew wider. “You know,” he said, lifting our still-joined hands to press a theatrical kiss to my knuckles. “All those centuries of experience just led me here. To this moment. To you. My favourite vampire hunter.”
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