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There, amid the endless scorching fields of Andalusia laid her next victim - a young innocent reaper boy. The pursuit was over; the hunt complete. The powerful growling had given way to a contented purr. His rough, sun-kissed skin was carrying the still fresh traces of her nails, sharp as those of a wild cat. They were more than a few new scars. They were her markings. The blood in his veins was throbbing wildly intoxicated by her affectionate caresses. For the unsuspecting boy that was love. For her – the experienced seductress – satisfying her thirst as a predator for prey.


ESME smoothly covered her glossy hair, threw on her gypsy scarf and, invisible as a cougar - as she was called in the neighbouring villages - vanished into the high fields. She had already taken what she needed. The naïve reaper left lying, imprinted for life.

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