Here’s a snippet from my WIP in which Ninian is remembering the first time he saw Carl in the library–
When last I waited, I took up my place in the shadows right in front of his table, and I got the chance to see his liquid brown eyes when he lit the candle with a taper from the small fire always burning in the hearth. I had to shutter my own eyes, of course, lest the crimson shade of my blood fever give me away, alert him to my presence. I close my eyes at that memory, at the way his pupils contracted with the sudden flood of light. His lush eyelashes even drifted down half mast to protect those eyes, and they almost touched his pink cheeks.
And dare I mention his throat?
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