Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. But the general was turning on him, the hint of emotion wiped from his lined features. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. She was shifting, moving back. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. I’m a female thing at bottom. “There’s endless reasons, no doubt, why we shouldn’t,” he said.
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