Such pretty manners, she thought. He scratched his upper lip reflectively. She came very near that night to resolving that she would return to her home next morning. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. A mate? A brother-lover to tromp about the world with? “I cannot. ‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned.
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