Tekna  Gypsy

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Constans arched a brow imperiously, ignoring his laughing Elder. “Why blue?” “To match your eyes.” Isaac barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, fighting back a laugh. “If I were a cat, I do believe I’d like that. And real diamonds please, nothing so tawdry as rhinestones.” Constans’s tone was pure arrogance and absolute sass.
Mastering the Flames (The Beacon Hill Sorcerer, #4)
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