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... unded through the room again—sharp, repetitive, persistent.

Jean stirred under the covers, groaning in frustration.

She had been comfortably curled up, half-dreaming of warm deserts and lost relics, but the incessant sound yanked her back to reality.

She shifted, waiting for Lucius to do something. He didn’t.

She turned her head, peering at his still form. The vampire lay unmoving, breathing steady and deep—if he even needed to breathe at all. He wasn’t going to a ...

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