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Chapter 9: Wine Stains and War Crimes
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Chapter 11: Dripping with Desire
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... he will, and lit a cigarette on its smoldering crown.
He was crouched beside Verrin’s limp, blood-matted body like a couture buzzard at a crime scene—humming something wildly off-key while winding rope around Virren’s wrists with the casual flair of someone gift-wrapping trauma.
Not just any rope, either. This stuff shimmered—subtle, suggestive, with that quietly cursed gleam of something stolen from the bottom drawer of a retired dominatrix’s nightstand. It looked expensive. It ...
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