She could smell him almost as strongly as she could the new paint on the fire escape walls, along with the wool suit and the weird polyester smell of his wet umbrella. He tore his gaze away, aware of the quickening of his heartbeat. Whether the turnkey entertained any suspicion of the old man, Jack could not tell, but that night he was more than usually rigorous in his search; and having carefully examined the prisoners and finding nothing to excite his suspicions, he departed tolerably satisfied. I'm not hungry. But, if you've a spark of love for me, don't meddle with anything in that house. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. ’ She paused, struggling for the word. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. He kissed her lightly on the lips.
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