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... gracefully made his bed that morning, his expression a mélange of amazement and suspicion. Sitting quietly in his private corner where his chaise lounge was situated, he poured himself a goblet of his usual morning blood wine, but his crimson eyes never looked away from the golden-blonde-haired woman as she meticulously made his bed.

Taking a sip from his crystal goblet that now tasted boring against his taste buds, his eyes followed the little lamb as she made her way to his window, and ...

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