RHYS SAT at the edge of the bed, away from me. I was flushed, still reeling from what happened, still high from his blood, and still very much affected by our little intercourse, but I was willing to listen to him. I was pulling all my brain focus into this moment. Because it was what I needed, wasn't it? This was what I wanted. I wanted an explanation. I wanted something from him, anything, even if it was just a crumb of his voice and attention. I was willing to take everything he was going to give me, but he gave me nothing aside from scars.
Now, as he was sitting there, looking like one of those Greek Gods that Knox used to tell me about, that I used to read about, Rhys was going to give me something. A story. A telltale. Some kind of elucidation on his part.
Why did he suddenly wan
