Close your eyes and picture it. Can you see it?”I nod, eyes closed. its texture, shape, and color—got it?”I smile, holding the image in my head. its contours with the tips of your fingers, cradle its weight in the palms of your hands, then combine all of your senses—sight, touch, smell, taste—can you taste it?”I bite my lip and suppress a giggle. it!” he says.So I do. I do all of those things. And when he groans, I open my eyes to see for myself.. This isn’t even close.””Nope, nothing fruity about him.” I laugh, smiling ateach of my Damens—the replica I manifested before me, and the flesh and blood version beside me. Both of them equally tall, dark, and so devastatingly handsome they hardly seem real.
Alyson Noel, Blue Moon