![]() ![]() ![]() He had never encountered anyone besides Rostiya who could quote Russian poetry. ![]() Johnnie jerked in surprise, not having expected that reply at all. ![]() "To be with you in hell," came the reply. He frowned and lifted his other hand to touch his lips.Īll the while, he felt the presence of the stranger, but he refused to ask again who the man was. It tingled, as though it had fallen asleep and was just beginning to wake up. Johnnie flexed the fingers of his suddenly free hand, wondering why it felt so strange. "You're too beautiful not to touch," the man replied, but abruptly let Johnnie go. Johnnie jerked his head back and hissed, "Do not touch me." He attempted to glare at the man he could only feel and hear and smell, but to judge by the soft laughter, he failed completely. "Not for you, perhaps," the man replied, squeezing Johnnie's hand again-then his thumb brushed over Johnnie's bottom lip. "There is not much to see in the dark," Johnnie replied. Soft, deep laughter brushed across Johnnie's face, smelling like some sort of sweet, fruity candy. Fangs or not, I am a Desrosiers and you will unhand me and tell me who you are." "You will explain to me your purpose here. How much easier his life would be if he did have the fangs, Johnnie thought. ![]()
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