and you’re a pure
soul, a snow-white newborn lamb. You mustn’t let me hurt you.
Why should you hurt me?
Because I might—no, I don’t want to bite you—I only want to kiss
you, just a little, like this. There was revelation in Damon’s mind-voice.
And he did kiss so sweetly, and he always knew when Elena’s knees
were going to give out and picked her up before she could fall on the
floor.
Damon, Damon, she was thinking, feeling very sweet herself
because she knew she was giving him pleasure, when she suddenly
realized.
Oh! Damon, please let me go—I have to go have a fitting right
now!
Deeply flushed, he slowly, reluctantly put her down, grabbed her
before she could fall, and put her down again.
I think I shall have to go have a fit right now as well, he told her
earnestly as he stumbled out of the room, missing the door the first time.
Not a fit—a fitting! Elena called after him, but she never knew if he
had heard. She was pleased, though, that he had let her go, without really
understanding anything except that she was saying no. That was quite a
bit of improvement.
Then she hurried in to Lady Ulma’s room, which was filled with
all sorts of people, including two male models, who had just been garbed
in trousers and long shirts.
“Sage’s clothes,” said Lady Ulma, nodding at the large one, “and