Ember (48 page)

M
ir
anda
had
i
gno
r
ed
h
i
m,
and
i
gno
r
ed
t
he
t
emp
t
a
ti
on
t
o
t
e
ll
h
i
m
t
ha
t
it
was
he
r
house
and
he
was
fr
ee
t
o
l
eave
it
.
Wh
il
e
t
he
r
o
tt
en
b
li
gh
t
e
r
had
no
qua
l
ms
abou
t
i
nsu
lti
ng
he
r
,
he
seemed
con
t
en
t
t
o
s
t
ay
j
us
t
whe
r
e
he
was,
o
r
de
ri
ng
he
r
abou
t
wheneve
r
she
v
i
s
it
ed.

S
h
e
sigh
e
d
,
wishing
sh
e
h
a
dn’t
co
me
fu
ll
y
awa
k
e.
O
n
th
e
h
ee
ls
of
fu
ll
w
a
k
e
fuln
e
ss
c
ame
a
bon
ed
ee
p
s
e
ns
e
of
loss
.
He
r
h
a
nds
curl
e
d
into
th
e
sh
ee
ts
,
as
if
sh
e
could
so
me
ho
w
hold
on
to
th
e
dr
eam.
T
o
H
im
.

For
it
h
a
d
been
hi
m
a
g
a
in
,
th
e
d
a
rk
str
a
ng
e
r
.
He
r
br
ea
sts
f
e
lt
h
ea
vy
,
h
e
r
nippl
e
s
tight
a
nd
t
e
nd
e
r
.
A
blush
of
h
ea
t
stol
e
ov
e
r
h
e
r
f
a
c
e
as
sh
e
r
emem
b
e
r
e
d
th
e
f
ee
l
of
his
m
outh
,
so
hot
a
nd
w
e
t
,
pulling
on
h
e
r
nippl
e
s
.
S
uch
a
thing
.
Ma
rtin
h
a
d
n
e
v
e
r
don
e
th
a
t
. I
nd
ee
d
,
h
e
’d
n
e
v
e
r
been
giv
e
n
a
ch
a
nc
e.
T
h
e
ir
coupling
wa
s
a
furt
i
v
e
thing
,
not
a
llowing
for
h
e
r
to
undr
e
ss
.
S
ur
e
l
y
,
Ma
rtin
h
a
d
c
a
r
e
ss
e
d
h
e
r
br
ea
sts
,

touching
h
e
r
nippl
e
s
through
th
e
thick
l
a
y
e
r
of
h
e
r
bodice,
but
it
h
a
d
been
noth
i
ng
co
m
p
a
r
e
d
to
wh
a
t
He
h
a
d
don
e
in
h
e
r
dr
eam.
Wicked
things
.
W
ond
e
rful
things
.

On
a
s
i
gh,
M
ir
anda
sa
t
up,
tr
y
i
ng
t
o
shake
t
he
memo
r
y
of
h
i
s
b
i
g,
s
tr
ong
hands
sk
i
mm
i
ng
up
he
r
t
h
i
ghs
t
o
grip
he
r
wa
i
s
t
.
O
f
be
i
ng
fill
ed
by
h
i
s
b
i
g,
s
tr
ong…

“
B
l
oody
h
e
ll
,
”
s
h
e
m
u
tt
e
r
ed
a
n
d
l
eapt
o
u
t
of
bed.
T
oday
w
as
h
er
b
l
oody
w
edd
i
n
g
da
y
.
V
i
go
r
o
u
s
l
y
,
s
h
e
s
p
l
a
s
h
ed
h
er
f
ace
w
it
h
icy
wa
t
e
r
.

A
viol
e
nt
shout
brought
h
e
r
up
short
,
s
e
nding
wa
t
e
r
into
h
e
r
e
y
e
s
.
I
t
wa
s
B
ill
y
,
crying
out
in
p
a
in
,
a
nd
a
noth
e
r
ma
sculin
e
voic
e…
Ma
rtin!

“
He
l
p
!”
B
ill
y.

“
Who
t
he
b
l
oody
he
ll
a
r
e
you
!
”

M
ir
a
nd
a
scr
am
bl
e
d
to
th
e
oth
e
r
roo
m,
bursting
in
as
Ma
rtin
h
a
u
l
e
d
Billy
up
by
his
shirt
a
nd
g
a
v
e
hi
m
a
sh
a
k
e.

“
M
a
r
t
i
n
!
”
M
i
r
a
n
da
g
r
abbed
h
i
s
a
rm
.
“
Let
h
i
m
go!
Y
o
u
’
l
l
hu
rt
h
i
m.
”