“I know what you are, Arthie,” he whispered. His voice held the barest of tremors. “I’ve known since the day I met you.” She pulled away from him, freezing as she searched the planes of his face. How? How could he know? Tell me, do you remember what it’s like to live? He grazed his fingers down the side of her arm, depriving her of her ability to think. “Let me help you.” She inhaled, devouring the scent of his blood, the fervor in his veins. It assaulted her. Drove her mad. She wanted to unleash her rage upon him. She wanted to crack open his rib cage and crawl inside of him. He loosened the
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