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... is shoulders. Each one whispered his name in a different voice, the way they used to say it in private moments: moaning, sighing, laughing, crying. Their bodies glided across his, feather-light, intoxicating.
He fell to his knees, overwhelmed. Not by fear. By love.
Lucy and Rose stepped in beside him, holding him, grounding him. "You’re not alone," Rose said softly.
"Never again," Lucy added.
Then the echoes began to dissolve, melting into threads of gold that wra ...
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