Roland of Gilead (

chassit) wrote in

As their hands moved, Roland found himself wishing for his own killer's hands. They were older and thinner, but they were stronger and bigger and how many people in his dreams had died by their doing? For now, he still let his fingers spread over the round, feeling something moving underneath.

When she stated what she did, he looked at her again and frowned. "Aye," he told her, bringing his free hand up to frame her cheek. "Never think I won't."

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