Melusine, used to the stark surroundings of the convent at Blaye, had no complaint to make. ’ Melusine wrenched her wrists out of his hold and stepped back, digging into her skirts, which she had adequately prepared some days ago. She could still feel his psychic presence all around her, and she knew he was thinking of her. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. And in its way it was very well.
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