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When he steps into the little room that night, he immediately thinks he should have refused Charles more. His scent fills the entire room. This is where the Faunling spends his nights. This is where he sleeps, where he- Stop there, Erik. Don’t think any further on the subject. You shouldn’t be thinking of the Faun that saved you having a wet dream in this room, on this bed. Damnit!

He’s not getting any sleep tonight, the Satyr thinks as he lies down, instinctively breathing in the now intoxicating smell of books, herbs, and the woods.

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