I'd embraced my anger, and let it spill out onto someone I cared about. A hand grabbed his wrist, a human woman shaking her head, saying, Don't go. The spasming was growing less, but that wasn't good, that wasn't good at all. I knew in that instant that I could feed on everything that Byron was.
I almost didn't say it, but he said he'd come to me for the truth. He stopped in the hallway and called after me, Where are you going, ma petite? I paused at the door and looked at him. Running through the yards. I think it was a throwback to a rather horrible junior high school dance experience.
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