Hands spilled over my breasts; one from behind, and one from the man pressed against the front of my body. It brought my breath faster, made my pulse race. He raised his face up from my chest, and his mouth and jaw were crimson with my blood. Requiem's fingers brushed mine, and the power inside me steadied, as if the world had been trembling, and now it was still.
We must see to Nathaniel first, he said, but his voice was hoarse and thick with need. He wasn't twenty-years dead, a baby. If I'd been sure we'd wake up again, I'd have welcomed passing out, but I wasn't sure. Something in his voice made me want to see what was happening with him.
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