The ardeur was Jean-Claude and Belle Morte's fault, something about their line had contaminated me. It's only luck that's kept the ardeur from you, Richard. The emerald of his eyes spread and swallowed his pupils, so that he looked at me with eyes like green fire. Melbourne wasn't moving, but the vampire still was: That seemed wrong to me.
He grabbed it, tried to spread it back over us both. s stomach, the slight dimple of flesh that was his belly button, the rich swell of his hips, and finally the ripeness of him. Not really. You still think that vamps are dead.
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