I Don't Have A Master.

And Your Excuse?' I Asked. 'i'm A Sociopath; I Don't Have To Be Nice,' Nicky Said. I Gave Him A Look. 'you're Mad At Him.i Can Feel It; Which Means I Really Don't Have To Be Nice To Him.' 'i Thought You Were Friends.' 'what Part Of Sociopath Didn't You Understand?' He Asked.

I Looked At Micah, Who Shrugged. I Looked At Rafael, Who Shook His Head. Nice That None Of Us Knew Why He Was Undressing.

I Stared At Jean-claude And It Wasn't The Beauty Of Him That Made Me Love Him, It Was Just Him. It Was Love Made Up Of A Thousand Touches, A Million Conversations, A Trillion Shared Looks. A Love Made Up Of Danger Shared, Enemies Conquered, A Determination To Neither Of Us Would Change The Other, Even If We Could. I Love Jean-claude, All Of Him, Because If I Took Away The Machiavellian Plottings, The Labyrinth Of His Mind, It Would Lessen Him, Make Him Someone Else.

Should I Eat First Or Accuse The Master Of The City Of Murder? Choices, Choices. -anita

There Is Some Comfort In Killing That Which Has Hurt You, But It Is Cold Comfort. It'll Destroy Things Inside Of You That The Original Pain Wouldn't Have Harmed. Sometimes It's Not A Question Of Whether A Piece Of Your Soul Is Going To Go Missing, Only Which Piece It's Going To Be.