She wondered if it would always be that way between them. She hoped so, she was getting used to being with him, doing things that would have shocked h...r to death if she had thought of them before. She liked doing those wicked things, liked being free enough with him to tell him what she wanted, what she needed, from him. As it turned out, she trusted him enough – loved him enough – to be herself with him without fear of rejection or reprisal. If only she could learn to transfer that sense of. I’d sat in my office, drinking wine and contemplating the mirror before me. Its twin was hanging over Elena Straltaira. She was awake, staring up at herself, a thin rectangle of moonlight shining on her face. Though her jaw was swollen, her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was filmed with dried sweat and smeared blood, she shown like an angel to me in her lunar aura. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” She asked herself. I’d been asking myself the same thing. Father had come by again. He’d. More

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