Melusine ripped at the buttons of the garment, dragging it open and away, and gasped at the massive red stain on his shirt. “Annabel,” she said slowly, “if I fight this thing out myself, can I trust you that it will not be a vain sacrifice? After what you have said it is useless for us to play with words. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go.
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