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... hrone of flames," he chortled.
"You're the angel, Luke. You're my love of comfort. I wanted to reach you. I went through months of pretending to be someone I am not to get to you." The fiery green eyes felt like molten lava. My face burned, my jaw hurt from the grin that split my face in half.
"You're a smooth talker, Vincent," he commented, not unkindly. "Are you saying that poor little Anthony, here, has been just a distraction?& ...
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