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Apart

CYRUS’ POV

“It's okay. I know you'll stop if I tell you to. I'm not made of glass, Cyrus. I'll be fine.”

When Baekalis had said those words to me last night, something in me snapped. She'd said it straight to my face: I'm not made of glass. If those weren't the balls a Luna should have, then I don't know what were.

She was perfect in every way, and she took me so well last night. And her scent. Dear god, her scent. I wish I could materialise it and turn it into some kind of pill so I could grind it and sniff it like a deranged junkie would do to fine and fancy cocaine. Only to sneeze it out, because in reality, I actually haven't done drugs before, and I was an amateur, just to sniff it back into my system.

I could die happy if I was surrounded by that scent.

When she'd told me it was her first time, I could almost swear that something ruptured in my chest because my heart stopped beating and I almost died on the spot. I couldn't believe that she willingly gave me the trust — the h
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