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orn off. The craving had returned.
tudied the sleeping woman beside him. Running his palm across her neckhe felt
ould end her life in an instant. What would it
pleasure and service. His strong fingers
l could not
ed
Howhe would never know.
.
he
the white tile floor . . . faint droplets of crimson. Dried blood.
Vittoriathankfullydid not notice.
The steel door slid open and she walked through.
Kohler fixed Langdon with an adamant stare. His m
missing eye serves a higher purpose.
18
T he woman’s hands were tiedher wrists now purple and swollen from chafing. The
mahogany-skinned Hassassin lay beside herspentadmiring his naked prize. He
wondered if her current slumber was just a deceptiona pathetic attempt to avoid furthe
service to him.
He did not care. He had reaped sufficient reward. Satedhe sat up in bed.
In his country women were possessions. Weak. Tools of pleasure. Chattel to be
like livestock. And they understood their place. But here
in Europewomen feigned a
strength and independence that both amused and excited him. Forcing them into physical
submission was a gratification he always enjoyed.
Nowdespite the contentment in his loinsthe Hassassin sensed another appetite growing
within him. He ha
heroin
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long-sought
Anne