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“You were beautiful when you were a doe,” he whispers in my ear when we both pant in the orgasmic glow, skin slick with sweat. “But you’re fucking exquisite now that you’re a predator, too.”
“You need to understand, Holly. Ghouls are not born. They are made. And I remade you, like Eve was made from Adam’s rib. The last step is this.”

