I had an urge to make Damian stop touching me, but I didn't, because I was furious. It was more of the grimy group I’d shared the big cell upstairs with, waiting to go to court. I looked at Jean-Claude. Clean and bare, like my spirit at the moment.
He took his hand back, slowly, and cradled it against his chest, as if it had been hurt. I wanted you strong, not cruel. I've fed the ardeur, we both have. It was a sending, a psychic sending.
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