“I failed to process that a creative sanctuary occupied the interior of the Moonspire Citadel,” I stated, my eyes tracking the heavy signboards as our boots cleared the threshold. “The Bloodmoon Gallery.”“The dominion coordinates are engineered to consume multiple social layers,” Kael replied, his large palm locking onto the lower curve of my back to guide my stride past the enforcement grid. “The public sector remains entirely excluded from the subterranean valet operations my vehicle utilized. Drop the analytical processing, Rowan. Your wolf needs to focus exclusively on the transit.”His fingers were burning directly through the white fabric of my dress, the intense heat of his skin registering with a violent weight that crowded out every alternative sensory detail in the crowded foyer. The precise millisecond his touch disconnected, my skin experienced a sudden, freezing drop in temperature.“My hands require the official ledger,” I muttered, folding my arms tightly over the gold
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