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“What did he do to you?” the Mist King repeated in a soft, dangerous voice that curled across me like the mists.
And the famous line is here
He let out a chuckle and tucked a finger beneath my chin. The heat of his touch stormed through me, curling my toes.
He ran his rough palm over the side of my neck, then tangled his fingers in my wild hair.
Don’t just run at me blindly with all that beautiful passionate anger.”
His eyes darkened even more. “Because I can’t stand the thought of his hands on you.”
