He could hear Jamie's breath, or thought he could-it seemed part of the soft wind that touched his face. He could smell Jamie, smell the musk of his body, the dried sweat and dust in his clothes, and felt suddenly wolflike and feral, longing changed to outright hunger. He wanted. Master me, he thought, breathing deep, or shall I your master be?
( Diana Gabaldon )
[ The Scottish Prisoner ]
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