Fergus gazed into Tom’s eyes so deeply the latter thought he could see into the very core of him. “I’ve loved ye for centuries, not a day,” he whispered, a pained smile touching his lips. “At least in my head. My soul is not free, or I’d offer it to ye. It pains me to the core that this canna last. My heart and body is yers for the wee time that we got, Tom. Take me as ye will.
-T.J. Deschamps
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