“I want to kiss you, and I want to kill you.” Mindless. Directionless—or was he? Because his every focus was on Stavros’ face. His destination. A sound left Stavros. A moan. His unshackled hand, the right, slid up Daniel’s shoulder and grasped him by the nape as they stared at each other. They panted together. Stavros looked like Daniel felt. Feverish. “And I want to bleed you.” “Do it. Any one of it,” Stavros whispered against Daniel’s chin. “All of it.”
