She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. “Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. For all that, it is folly. But I've stacks of books and a grand piano-player. It had been her home for hundreds of years. Melusine saw fire in his eyes and a streak of heat rushed through her to match it.
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