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... high-grade spirit grapes, the kind that grew in the mist-drenched hills of the Empire’s interior. I could feel the energy dancing in my veins with every chew.

“Open,” she said softly.

I did. A grape rolled past my lips, and I chewed slowly as I leaned against her lap, the slow rise and fall of her breath brushing against the back of my neck. It was therapeutic, sure. Luxurious, even.

But it was also killing me inside.

“I should go,” I muttered between bites. “Egre ...

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