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By Joey W. Hill

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No one would use her. No one. Not even the dark blood inside her. htm 40/246 12/2/2010 A Witch's Beauty - Joey W Hill Then she felt his hands. The bloodlust in her roared in fury. Trying to twist, she snapped at him, taking a swipe. When he caught her wrist, she cried out, her lower body rolling upward, the tentacles wrapping around the rock to protect her side. " Gingerly, he guided her arm back around his neck, as if she didn't have six-inch claws capable of ripping his head right off. Since she'd expected him to yank her off the rock, demand some response from her, it was confusing to realize he wasn't doing either of those things.

To me, you're all the same side. You're-" It clamped down on her, shoving her into a howling vortex of darkness. She clawed at the sides of it, but the sinking despair told her she'd lost the fight again. Rage. She knew better than to get this worked up. Twice in one day now. Or was it three? She couldn't have him around. Oh, gods, why couldn't she make him understand? Maybe because if he did, he would try to kill her and be done with it, and for reasons she didn't comprehend, she still clung to the idea of life.

Those oranges were juicy," he said calmly, as if nothing were amiss. " He looked charmingly abashed. "It was just a small handful from a wedding reception. " Wetting the napkin with his own mouth, he wiped it along her lips, removing some of the stickiness. However, the way his eyes followed his motion made her lips part, a noise coming from her throat. " he asked, low. " She shook her head. " "I think you're afraid to kiss me," he said. His warm brown eyes were serious, discomfiting her. Easing himself back to a reclining position beside her, he turned on his hip, a slow shift.

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