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... around her wrist. His grip wasn’t weak or trembling like one would expect from a sick man; it was strong, steady... almost possessive.
Her brows drew together. Did he wake up?
Leaning closer, she whispered, "What? You want something?"
But Veer’s eyes remained closed. His breathing was slow and even, completely unchanged, the steady rhythm of someone deep in sleep. He wasn’t awake. He hadn’t heard her.
Kaya looked back at her wrist, her expression shifting into di ...
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