Love Is Not Love Until It Is Giving Away

The room Luan entered was bigger. It was longer and wide. Row upon rows of bookshelves stood at intervals, like sentries forming alcoves on either side of the room. There were plenty of bookshelves upstairs as well. Huge, outward-curving stained-glass windows, lined with benches.

“You know,” said Luan, “this isn’t at all what I thought Evangeline would do.”

Luan leaned carelessly against the wall behind William, as if he was lounging in a doorway. His feet in their black ridged sole boots. He held something in his hand; a silver repousse pocket knife. He pocketed it back as William looked at him.

“What are you imagining exactly, Luan? Evangeline is not that soft hearted as you thought.”

Luan narrowed his eyes at William. “You’re probably have done something deserve to be in her wrath.” His blue eyes flickered to the welt on William’s forearm. “You should be glad your body is still intact.”