He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. The change in her face was not a pleasant one. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Occasionally he revealed tidbits about his past after a good kill. I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. But if only you will come I do not care. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman.
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