She could almost see it there, his heart upon his sleeve. She would not have called it love, what passion lived within him. But hate and obsession both? Those she could use. Was she not owed her pound of flesh from him? He had taken his already, and so much more than that. The strength that coursed through her was lent to her from all those wicked women who had come before her: Delilah, Jezebel, Eve. She found them, all, within her as she cast aside the cloth and rose to her feet.
