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She knew Fethan hated her. Hated everything she stood for. Why had she believed his offer? She was a fool. Panic made her mind flail wildly, and Shan came to her mind again, running towards her, exhausted, broken, but still running. For a long moment, Jeren didnt know what to say. He sounded resigned, as if he had expected it. But up until she saw the Fellna with Gilliad in that dreadful vision, she had hoped the Enchassa had gone forever. Shed believed them to be free of her. Ill keep that in mind. Anything else? Samara grabbed her bottle of Metz and raised it to her lips. Lukewarm now after the time spent on the quiz machine. Her bus would have been there. The same old bus she took home after college every weekday. She could have gone home, fled upstairs. Throwing off the day.Outside 2 in the VCR… Ms Cater removes her glasses, as if shes seen enough. Serendipitys brother, arent you? Thought so. You comfortable in the Byre, are you? Christ, it comes to something when that’s where you choose to convalesce. Honesty on a car lot was a rare quality, and I was glad Id overtipped the cabbie. You work on commission, Denny? She seems satisfied with the answer. She shifts a little, ducking into his eye line. They sit in silence, watching the firelighters kiss the paper and twists of card; the haphazardly chopped tinder; the great hunks of sap-scented wood. She tries to rest her head on his shoulder. He sucks on his lower lip, his curiosity unfolding like an origami rose. He can sense an opportunity. Can see the faintest light of possibility: a haze of phosphorescence in the darkness. Hes spun baser materials than this into gold. Has polished far darker turds to a truly dazzling gleam. She hesitated, hating the thought of telling him. Would his face fall? Would he be angry or just disappointed? Worst of all, would she have to watch his heart break right in front of her? transexual dating sites Thats quite a bleak outlook, says Snowdrop, a touch disconsolately. But I know you mean them and not you. Rowan looks at the sheaf of pages, trying not to lick his lips.Can I see? he asks. The day is only a little past noon, but the cars and vans that swish down Whitehaven High Street all have their headlights on, pitching great circles of lurid yellow onto the grubby shopfronts and the condensation-streaked windows of this tired, rain-lashed road. The Lake District starts a few miles inland, and the difference in atmosphere and affluence is remarkable. Rowan knows from checking on his phone that hes worryingly close to the nuclear power station: a big silhouette of oblongs, orbs and squares. A mile the other way, the crumbling clifftop drifts into the village of Seascale; all rusty goalposts and untended playing fields; a wind-pummeled swathe of muddy beach and guest houses closed for thewinter. Rowan likes the grit of the place – the heartfelt lack of pretension. West Cumbria has a sense of itself that always seems to raise a coal-grimed middle finger in the face of gentrification. Its always seemed a place much more at ease with the opening of a new kebab shop than with any Italian-themed coffee house, as if donner meat and garlic mayo is intrinsically more in keeping with the spirit of this down-at-heel West Cumbrian harbour town than a skinny macchiato with extra foam. But for all that he admires the spit-and-sawdust earthiness, his mood matches his clothes. Hes still soaked to the skin; shivering hard enough to make his teeth rattle. He managed to change into a cleanish black T-shirt and steer his arms through the sleeves of a baggy cardigan but he couldn’t face the rigmarole of stripping off his jeans, socks or boots. Damp material clings to his thighs, his calves, ankles, soles. His toes feel like chipolata sausages straight from the freezer. He’s taking comfort in the fact that he has left a perfect arse-print on the calfskin leather of Jo’s vintage Nissan Figaro. She’s told them she would be back in an hour, dropping them off in the car-park of the DIY store and giving firm instructions not to cause mischief. Rowan had saluted, earnestly, then turned the hand gesture into one more in keeping with his feelings as she drove away in a burst of spray. She stood firm, facing him squarely.And worse, she continued. “Much worse. You cannot possibly imagine. I know him better than anyone. Eve stays quiet while he removes his jacket and pulls a cardigan from a suitcase on the floor. He takes a towel from the rail by the window and tosses it to Eve. He pushes back his hair and sits down on the bed, looking at her with a likeable smile on his pinkish, waxy face. Violet picks up a handful of pebbles and starts tossing them into the water.A healing what? Shh... Jeren placed her hands on either side of his face. A smile flickered over her lips, affection, amusement. She was magnificent, his mate, even in the face of such stubbornness. She was a River Holter, he supposed. No one could possibly be as stubborn as her. And he loved her for it. More every second. Think of something good in your life. Think of something that brings you joy. A good thought. Shed been within her rights to do what she did. Shed imagined that it would be harder to do to somebody that she cared about what she had done to so many strangers. But it had been easier. If anything, she had taken more pleasure in the act..