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... rest but because something was calling to him. It wasn’t a sound. It wasn’t even a whisper. It was a hum, soft and seductive, like the touch of breath against skin. Around him, his lovers slept, tangled in curves and sighs, their bodies half-lit by the glow of the sapling nearby. The flowers on its delicate branches never wilted, never closed. They shimmered faintly, as if breathing with the group.
Jude moved gently, brushing his lips across Lucy’s temple before slipping from her embrac ...
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