She was to be a Corsair’s Bride. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose. "But you said you weren't particular. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature.
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