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Chapter 6: One Bottle Too Many
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Chapter 8: A Midnight Terror
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... es, each beat a tiny hammer against her skull. She groaned, the sound muffled by the soft, overly warm pillow she instinctively clutched.
The lingering warmth was a welcome comfort, a fuzzy blanket against the sharp edges of her headache, and she drifted back towards sleep, only to find the pillow was far too firm, too alive.
Rhys's limbs felt heavy, pleasantly so, as if he were encased in a warm, comforting cloud. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so deeply, so peace ...
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