Sometimes he was obviously irritable and uncomfortable and unfortunate in his efforts to seem at ease. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. “Please call me Carol. “Now, there, there. “Do something!” But he laid by his prey, half-watching the fight, gorging on the woman he had caught that had been meant for Rhea and her child. And you, Mademoiselle Melusine, will support this claim.
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