When we were both lying on the bed, breathing hard, pulses quieting, he looked down at me, and there was something in his eyes, something serious, and very un-Jason. I had ridden alone the wholetrip, but now, as I jumped down from the truck into the waiting hands of my arresting officer, I joined Enough of Asher and of me. He looked down at me like a drowning man.
Which man? I think he was the only one with longer hair. I spoke half turned around, as if I didn't trust my back to the dark completely. I looked at him. Jean-Claude only takes blood from me every other day, usually.
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