It can’t be the packhouse that created this change in her. From the second I walked into her room, filthy from the day's labour, she sized me up like prey and left me practically drooling. She knows exactly what that midnight blue gown does to her figure. A thigh-high split, too? Cruelty in spades. I was more than willing to give her space. I can cuddle, be affectionate, and listen until the end of time. I’ve massaged more oil into her delicate soft skin and bump than I would have thought possible. Sometimes, such rubdowns ended in tears as memories overwhelmed her. Other times, I was able to send her up to heaven in a state of bliss. It’s been a rollercoaster. I’ve dug my way out of my own pit of grief, Freya had been living on hold for so long. She’d been on the run, trapped back at White Forest, held at Rising Star against her will. Shitbag Phillipe had dared to put his hands on her and thankfully paid the fucking price. I regret never getting to land a blow on him myself. But it
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