A hand floated under her chin. Leona lifted her face at the unspoken command, his fingertips hovering just over her skin—never touching. She should be thankful he avoided making contact. His hallowed flesh was above hers. And yet, by every God in the pantheon, she yearned for it. He owned her mind with his decree. He owned her soul with his very presence. She had nothing more to give him if he gave her his touch as well. He looked down at her, and she up at him. Leona reveled in the silence, in the feeling of his attention on her. It was that feeling that pushed her to victory in every duel
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