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sley
I swirled the amber liquid in my crystal glass, my Lycan senses assaulted by th
sickening, obsessive hunger. She thought she could play games. She thought my political marriage to that
ss to my lips an
neous. Liquid fire tore d
hijacked my nervous system. My Lycan healing, usually instantaneous, slammed into a brick wall of agoniz
uckled. Through the sensory static and the sudden, terrifying loss of motor control, I cau
it would be a political disaster. I stumbled backward, the massive champagne tower
ver c
-pulled cap, and a black face mask hauled me upright. I flared my nostrils, desperate to identify my handler,
dered, low and del
rs, swallowed by the shadows of the service area. My limbs were lead. *Rage* thras
on the keypad. My blurred mind barely registered the numbers, but a chi
me across the black marble floor of my bathroom and shov
d blocks of ice s
ed in my veins, but the extreme cold fought back the neurotoxin, giving me a fracti
for the mask, desperate to rip it off and expose th
spond! Wher
nd-Link, a psychic sledgehammer that shattered
stumbled back against the porcelain as the figure bolted through the
m. I looked down at my hand. Resting in my palm was a single, hand-forged obsidian cufflink, tor
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