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“I think this house, this location is a very powerful source, and I think someone is stripping it. That means a human conduit is involved—they have to strip it through someone.
“Life that goes unspent, growth that never happens.
Helen Thwaite.”
Sixth?
I’d rather be a dead nuisance. I’d rather die at your hands than theirs. And I’d rather give you a fighting chance.
“A lot more time. Stephen, you’re the only spark of light I’ve encountered in this whole vile country. You’re extraordinary. You’re valuable. And I don’t want you to die because of me.”
His bald head was reddened with burns and he had no eyebrows left.
Just about enough talent to know what she’s missing.
There was a heavy thump as one landed for a moment on Crane’s shoulder.
There’s no good doing the right thing unless you stop people doing the wrong thing.
said Merrick supportively.
It should have been obvious that the ring needed Vaudrey blood.
“Does that mean, if you’d just come to bed last night—” “Probably.” Stephen pushed through the roses. “Shut up.” “I didn’t say a word,” said Crane, grinning.
The hands that claimed his body now had held his bloody fingers in the darkness of the cellar. The past was dead. They were alive. He wanted this man so much.
it was the sheer glory of the astonishing, brave, magical man in his arms, it was simply, wonderfully, Stephen.
but that surrender was still a jolt right to the groin.
as Crane mastered him
“I think we’re the Magpie Lord,” Stephen said. “Me and you. You in me. Your blood and my power and the ring, together. This is how Piper wants to be, can’t you feel it? It’s warm again. It’s alive.”
He was happy and vivid, and glowing with pleasure, and Crane stared at him, unable to imagine how he had ever seen this man as drab and unmemorable.
for a whole two hours
God, Crane was worth looking at. Those cool grey eyes, those cheekbones, that finely shaped mouth that seemed made equally for laughter or cruelty, and which he mostly used for language that was still making Stephen blush like a schoolgirl...
like a golden flaw through marble,
“You’re safe here, Stephen. Quite safe.” Stephen shut his eyes against the words. He felt as transparent as the glass he leant against, and as fragile.
was his occasional perceptive kindness that undid Stephen utterly. He could not defend himself against that.
He was a living source of power like nothing Stephen had ever encountered. If any practitioners found out, he would be a walking target.
