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I should leave. I step back but run into something hard, and I pause, the hair on my arms standing up straight. A long arm with long fingers reaches around me, and I spot the same beautiful vein in his hand bulging as he grips his bottle of Kirin, handing it to me. A flutter hits my heart, and I’m sixteen again, back at St. Killian’s.
Conclave (Devil's Night, #3.5)
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