She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. Drowning, her brain dizzy, Melusine clung to the source of the flooding warmth, her hands, no longer forcibly held, moving without will about the firm back. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly. Look at the poor victim at your feet. “Soul to soul. Mirrors.
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