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Being the angel of death’s a lonely gig, and Thing’s been alone all his life, even when he wasn’t chained to a dungeon wall half-mad for two centuries.
He’s not like his brothers.
He’s come to prefer his solitude. Or so he thinks.
Because when a fierce woman with covered in blood comes crashing through the forest into his many arms, he begins to wonder if he might just want a consort of his very own…
