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... t of a dragon’s breath or the feverish burn of a battle wound. It was soft, enveloping, and smelled faintly of lavender and fresh linen.
He groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow, trying to hold onto the last second of sleep.
His body felt heavy, pleasantly exhausted from the previous night’s activities. The memories of Belladonna in the town square, the magic trick, and the subsequent marathon in the penthouse played in his mind like a highlight reel.
"Wake up, ...
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