‘Scream and you are dead,’ he snapped, and released her mouth so that he might open the door. “You are in a private room of St. Promise me. It was the grand nursery of vice. The strong fingers of one hand secured both her wrists there, and Melusine found herself chest to chest with him as he threw off his hat, and began to pat at her petticoat, searching for tell-tale protrusions.
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