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"Then help me convince him to mate with me."
Her lips still held that perfect curve—a smile she’d perfected over the years, one that could lie without blinking, soothe without caring, kill without mercy. But in that moment, it felt like porcelain. Too tight. Too smooth. Cracking from within.
She blinked once, slowly, almost theatrically.
"Ilyana, love," Isabella said in a soft, velvety voice, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "You’re asking for something impossi ...
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