Ramsey Jester

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“When was Shane here?” Oh, fuck. My voice was so deep. I was riding a razor’s edge, literally about to shift right then and there. Glancing at my hand, I saw my nails had already transformed to black claws and were now abrading her silky skin. I flinched and dropped her wrist, then backed away.
Witches Get Stitches (Stay a Spell, #3)
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