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... to the violet hush of early dusk. Cool air kissed his heated cheeks, and the unfamiliar sweetness of rain-damp ivy drifted through the colonnade. Lantern beetles began their slow ascent up the trunks, trailing dots of amber light. Steady, he told himself, passing a palm down the front of his robe. Silk clung to lingering perspiration; he smoothed the fabric anyway, pretending the gesture erased the memory of two warm bodies pressed to him only minutes ago.
Birdsong fluttered above—a flut ...
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