You begged me for clemency once," he called over the dead reaches of the Fold, over the hungry shrieks of the horrors he had made. "Is this your idea of mercy?" Another bullet hit the sand, only inches from us. Yes, I thought as the power rose up inside me, the mercy you taught me.

We all have our secrets.

I will strip away all that you know, all that you love, until you have no shelter but me.

Don't let me be alone.

The problem with wanting," he whispered, his mouth trailing along my jaw until it hovered over my lips, "is that it makes us weak." And then, at last, when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, he brought his mouth down on mine.

The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak.

Fine, make me your villain.