“Go,” the creature says, hiding his face.
“I was sutured to be your bride—”
“You’re not an experiment, I have no right to control you.”
“No, you don’t,” she says lowering his hand. “My cobbled soul chooses to stay.”
“As a friend?” he asks.
Her lips hover close. “As something, more.”
Copyright © 2018 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
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