“What I have is hardly a talent,” she replied. A curse, perhaps. More than likely a demon. What she needed was a good exorcism.”

“At least I understand her. At least I am willing to give her what she needs.”“You’re willing to give her what she wants. That’s not the same thing. I’m not afraid to push her where she needs to be.”“Perhaps you push too hard.”“Did she say that?”Asmoday flashes a white smile. “She does not have to.”

“She liked to disappear, even when she was in the same room as other people. It was a talent, as it was a curse.”

“My talent is looking into a woman's eyes and instinctively knowing what I need to. If she's lonely or bored; neglected or abused; timid or adventurous; satisfied or confused; looking to recapture the past or re-invent the present; making plans for tomorrow or merely concerned about tonight. I discover what a woman is looking for and promise it to her. If all she wants is a good time, she gets everything. If she wants more, I lie and take what she has to give. Then I move on.”

“Better this way, what remained of his battered sensibilities told him. He was no good for her, anyway. She didn’t understand him. She didn’t understand that he was cursed. And, selfish as he was, he’d rather she hate him than he hate himself any more than he was already going to. Any more than he already did.”

“She knew what she saw, and that was all that mattered. Knew what was behind those hard dark eyes, and wanted it more than anything.”