She did not care that vampire children are abominations. They must have a key. Perhaps that was the reason why she enjoyed preparing suppers at the Becks. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. Here your nephew will speedily be thrown. ” She smiled, sure of herself beyond any pretending, into his troubled eyes. She is no longer mine; she is yours.
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