Vance'

hick with the scent of sex and sweat, but the atmosphere was as frigid as a tomb. I lay still, a broken doll with vacant eyes fix

ick kind of contentment, while my human consc

imax, he had leaned close, his voice a ragged, desper

sn't

as N

d blade, twisting in the

ling for his discarded clothes with jerky, irritated mo

stain bloomed on

eemed to evaporate, replaced by a sharp,

vely reached for the torn remnants of the blank

I saw in his eyes. It wasn't even pity. It

he silence. "Well played," he said, his voice dri

d unable to process his

oodstain with a contemptuous flick of his wrist. "Where did you get it? A vial

e thought... he tho

se I couldn't even form a response. I wanted to laugh, to

ser to the bed to loom over me. "That I'd feel some shred of pity for yo

he was taking the very proof of it and turni

silence, the utter lifelessness in my gaze, seemed to unnerve him. I saw a flicker of so

et, and extracted a few hundred-dollar bills. H

inal, searing humiliation. "

ken, tragic smile. The expression seemed to enrage him further. He turned and strode f

es. A single, hot tear escaped, tracin