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Talraine was glowing with satisfaction.
And I was glowing with... everything else.
I stumbled out of the shrine chamber like a sinner caught mid-confession—shirtless, soaked, and humming with divine feedback. The second glyph had burned itself into me, and the Matron's voice still lingered in my head like a phantom orgasm.
And then there she was.
Waiting. Crossed legs. Folded arms. A smirk that could kill hope and birth kinks.
"You're glowing," she sai ...
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