My stomach dipped. No, no, no… I couldn’t help it. I followed the line of the beads, feeling his stomach tighten under my fingertips, and his breathing quicken. Reaching the crucifix I hoped wasn’t there, I pinched it between my fingers, my nerves firing hot under my skin as I instantly recognized the carefully crafted definition of the fingers attached to the cross. Oh, my God. I let the rosary go like it burned my fingers. But he grabbed my hand, pressing it back on the beads and his skin. “Oh, why stop when you were doing so well?” he taunted. “Damon,” I murmured, trying to pull my hand
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