I shook my head, concentrating on the voice in my head, and the thickening scent of roses. There was a hungry urgency, a breathless demand in her voice, and a fist closed around his heartas she spoke, a chill ruined his aplomb, his grasp of the present, so recently returned to him. I actually had to give him my word I wouldn't try to pop Van Anders without backup. Tell me you love me, nineteen times, very fast.
What cause? He let out an exasperated breath. That should have bothered me, but it didn't. He had lovedher purely and with all his heart; and the present he gave her at the Christmas party held by his homeroom had cost him all the money he’d made raking leaves through that Autumn. (It’s a mean-spirited practice, as well, since it’s used only by people who want tosneer at the artist.
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