But logic didn't help. I know that, because I've seen dead bodies in some of the nicest houses. If I'd taken blood from him it would have left him colder, but the ardeur wasn't blood, and it didn't mind sharing its warmth with those who fed it well. Damian gave him an unfriendly look, and a sound that was more growl than anything trickled from his mouth.
Because between one breath and another, the memory overwhelmed me, and suddenly that heavy warmth spread from low in my body to spill over my skin in a dance of goosebumps. We got a problem out there. Barbara Brown sent me a card saying how sorry she was she hurt me. Sorry, luv.
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