Cadan tipped my chin up to meet his solid red eyes. He stroked my jaw and waited until I said something. But what can I say? I don’t want to practice on anybody, much less Luke. What if I can’t stop? What if I hurt him?

“What happens if I can’t stop feeding?” I asked quietly.

Cadan shrugged. “We’ll find a good spot to bury the body.

Barbara C. Doyle

Stichwörter: humor cadan ebony the-feed

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