We drew back enough to look into each other's faces, and I saw the trickle of blood trailing over his lower lip. Malcolm had brought over most of those hundreds, personally. My beast woke inside me, as if it had only been napping. I don't think Jean-Claude could have planned some of this in his wildest imagination.
I never seemed to think as clearly around them when they were naked, embarrassing, but true. I'm sorry, I said. We aren't perverts like Jean-Claude and his vamps. She shook her head.
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