CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 11 page

She pried her eyelids apart. Strider loomed over her, she saw, his wrist poised over her mouth. Blood dripped onto her now closed lips and slid down her cheeks. He reached down with his free hand, about to force her mouth to part. When he realized she had awoken, he froze.

Her lips parted of their own volition, another mouthful of warmth sliding into her stomach and filling her up.

“That’s it,” he said, pressing his wrist into the opening she provided. “That’s a good girl.”

Her fangs extended, and she bit. She sucked and sucked and sucked, drinking in the healing powers of his blood. He tasted like rich, aged wine sprinkled with dark chocolate and honey. No one had ever tasted this good.

As she savored, she studied him. He sat beside her, his hip touching hers. Lines of tension branched from his eyes and mouth, and his skin was pallid. Unsure how much blood he could afford to lose, she forced herself to stop drinking from him.

He arched a brow. “That enough?”

No, but it would have to be. She nodded. The action heralded a wave of dizziness, and she grimaced. In and out she breathed, slow, measured. Finally, her mind calmed, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She recalled entering the ring, kicking ass—and then getting her ass kicked. After that…damn, damn, damn. She was lying in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. That meant…damn, damn, damn.

“Where are my sisters?” Wow. Speaking hurt. Someone must have punched the hell out of her trachea.

“Bianka went back to the heavens with Lysander because I was about to permanently hinder her ability to breathe. She hovers. And Gwen is somewhere with Sabin, drinking his blood, I’m sure, and healing.” Strider’s voice was cold, distant. “Taliyah and the others, I don’t know.”

“But all my girls were alive after the competition?”

“Yeah. All of them.”

“And they weren’t on the verge of dying?”

“No.”

Relief speared her. All right. Okay. They were alive, healing. She could deal with anything else. Maybe. “Who—who won?”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Your mother. You guys didn’t place.”

Because of me, she thought, her chest hollowing out. Because she’d passed out, which was almost as bad as a disqualification.

Her eyes burned, so she closed them. Damn it. She needed a moment alone, needed time to compose herself. Or sob. Strider had just seen her at her worst. She couldn’t break down now and further blacken his opinion of her.

More than that, she had to look hideous. In fact, she needed to cover every mirror in the vicinity with a mourning shroud before she saw herself and considered committing suicide. “Be a good consort and go fetch me a bottle of water so I can steal it from you. I’m thirsty.”

“Drink your tears, crybaby.”

Her eyelids popped open and she gaped at him. The urge to cry vanished completely. “How can you treat me like this! Where’s your compassion? I’m obviously dying.”

“Please. You’ve got a few paltry wounds.”

Paltry? Paltry! She glanced down at herself. Her clothes had been cut away, leaving her bare. Only she still looked dressed. Her skin was slashed and tattered in places, with black and blue bruises branching in every direction. “These are the worst wounds you’ve ever seen, you bastard, and you know it.”

His lips quirked at the corners. “Nah. I once had a paper cut between my index finger and thumb. You don’t know the meaning of pain until you’ve experienced something like that.”

He. Was. Amused. “You are five seconds away from a dagger through the heart.” Huffing and puffing, she pulled the covers up to her chin. Every movement caused a ripple of agony. Worth it, though. Being naked in front of Strider—no problem. Being naked and injured? Hell, no!

“Watch your tone, okay? My demon is acting up.” Even as he spoke, he gently tucked the soft material around her.

Some of her anger drained. “What do you mean, acting up?”

“He’s eager for a fight.”

“Why?” She knew she shouldn’t say anything else, knew Strider would be pissed, wouldn’t understand, but it was for his own good. “I doubt you can tell me in a way I’ll understand.”

The long length of his lashes fused together, anger suddenly pulsing from him. “He was cheering for you. He watched you lose. That upset him. He didn’t hurt me, but now he needs to win something. Got it?”

“Yes.” His demon had cheered for her? Really? Was that the voice she’d heard, as she’d first suspected? “Thank you.”

“This is not something to smile about.”

She was smiling? Oh, yeah. She was. She smoothed her features. “Fine. I’ll behave. Now, don’t you feel better?”

A moment passed before the tension she’d sensed in him drained. He’d won. A little skirmish, yes, but he’d still won, granting his demon some sort of victory and hopefully calming him.

“You did that on purpose,” he said, thoughtful.

“So?”

“So. You’re sweet.” Tenderly he swept the hair from her brow. “We’re going to talk. If you’re feeling up to it,” he added.

His body heat cocooned her more surely than the blanket. “Why wouldn’t I feel up to it? Paltry wounds, remember?” As her dry tone echoed, she began to understand something else about Strider. He’d shown her no sympathy earlier because he’d realized how close she teetered to the edge of a breakdown. Any softness would have sent her over, and she would have collapsed.

She would have resented him for that collapse, would have worried about the consequences. Now, she didn’t have to. She could simply enjoy him.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. “Be honest.”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“A naked rubdown.”

His pupils expanded, gobbling up his irises. “Besides that.”

“Besides this, besides that,” she mocked, forcing herself to glare at him. “Lookit, I can tell you’re sincerely slightly concerned about my physical well-being, but if you don’t get me some water like I already told you I needed, I will personally—”

“Clearly, you’re feeling up to a talk.” His lips twitched into a full-fledged smile this time.

There. Much better. He hadn’t wanted her to collapse, and she hadn’t wanted him to torture himself about her condition.

“Therefore…” He held up a glistening bottle and waved it in her face. A few droplets of condensation splashed onto her chest, and she gasped. “I can admit that I’ve got what you want, and exploit you.”

The sudden dryness of her mouth made her gums ache. She’d been lying before, about being thirsty, but now, seeing that bottle, she wanted. Had to have. Would die if she didn’t. “Give me.”

“Uh-uh-uh. You want this,” he said in a singsong voice, “you’ll have to earn it. So I’ll be asking you some questions, and you’ll be giving me the answers. And, just so you know, I also have a hamburger and a chocolate shake to pay you with.”

She licked her lips, hating him and loving him at the same time. This was exactly why she never spilled Harpy secrets. They could be used against her. But because of Gwen, Strider knew Kaia truly had to earn her food. If he asked a question, and she accepted payment for her answer, she couldn’t lie to him. Otherwise, she would sicken, just as she would if she ate something she’d prepared for herself.

Once again he waved the water bottle. “Deal?”

“Deal,” she gritted out, no longer having to fake the resurgence of anger. He would want to know about the next competition. She knew it. She—

“Tell me why the Harpies hate you so much.”

Was wrong. She sagged against the mattress and peered up at the ceiling. Water damage had darkened several panels. They were in another cheap motel, then. Were probably still in Wisconsin.

“I’m waiting, baby doll.”

“The answer’s not important.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

She sighed. “The man…Juliette’s man. The one you saw the day of orientation. When I was fourteen, I wanted him to be my slave, to do my laundry, that kind of thing, so I tried to steal him and prove my worth. My strength.” As she spoke, she began to tremble. If she told him the rest, the truth, he would leave her. Just like most of her clan had left her.

How could he not? He’d just watched her lose. To hear that she’d always been a failure, that she would probably never be more…

Did she really want the bottle of water that much?

“And?” he insisted.

Better to lose him now, she rationalized. He was only staying for the Rod, anyway, and if he left, she wouldn’t have to worry about the next competition. About losing in front of him again.

“Instead,” she finished, “I set him free and he almost killed me. He would have killed me if not for Bianka. She pulled him off me and he turned on her. Then, of course, he turned on everyone else. More Harpies were lost that day than any other day in our history. Even during the Great Turf Wars, when we battled other species.”

Strider frowned. “If he hurt so many, why isn’t he blamed for what happened? No one looked at him with hate in their eyes. No one went for his throat.”

That was his reaction? Why hadn’t he run? “Juliette had him contained. I unleashed him. Had I stayed away, he wouldn’t have had the chance to do anything.”

“All right, then answer me this. If he’s so dangerous, why has Juliette kept him around?”

“A Harpy will forgive her consort for almost anything,” she grumbled.

A moment of silence. “What is Juliette’s consort, anyway?” he asked, opting not to comment on her “forgive almost anything” revelation. Why? She’d just given him an eternal hall pass. “Not a human, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t know what he is. I’d never encountered anyone like him, and haven’t since.”

His lips pursed. “So you didn’t sleep with him?”

“I was fourteen. What do you think?” At his blank look, she scowled. “Wait. Don’t answer that.”

“Gods, you’re huffy. I know you didn’t sleep with him. I just wanted to hear you say so.” He traced a fingertip along her jaw, gentle, so gentle. “And thank you. For the truth this time.”

Do not melt. He hadn’t exactly declared himself. “Thank you? That’s all you have to say to me?”

“Yeah. What? Did you expect a limerick?”

No. She’d expected a lecture and a goodbye. “Because of what I did, they named me Kaia the Disappointment.” There. Now he knew everything. Now he knew the person he’d put his trust and faith in—well, sort of—might not be able to deliver.

“What is it with Harpies and name-calling?” he asked, again surprising her.

Every time someone called her KtD, she died a little inside, but Strider acted as if it were no big deal. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “I wouldn’t worry about us and our name-calling. We haven’t given you one yet.”

Something dangerous flickered in his eyes, there one moment, gone the next. “Like I care what you call me.” His voice was flat, emotionless, offering no hint as to what she’d seen. He was such an asshole sometimes. Well, I’ll see your “don’t care” and raise you a “what do you think about this?” “Just so you know, we call Paris the Sexorcist.”

Strider’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a sharp breath. Silence gripped them for so long, she started to feel guilty. Then he said stiffly, “You’ve earned your first payment.” He twisted the cap off the water, slid a warm hand under her neck and lifted. Her lips met the cold cascade of liquid and she forgot all about the guilt.

She gulped like crazy, and gods, each drop tasted better than the last. When she finished, Strider crunched the plastic and tossed it over his shoulder. He eased her back down and released her. She pursed her lips to stop herself from begging for more contact.

He leaned toward the nightstand and claimed a section of the hamburger he’d already cut into fours. Her stomach churned, growled.

“Guess I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry,” he remarked with a grin.

Em-barr-ass-ing, but at least he’d lost that emotionless edge and was still determined to talk with her. A miracle of miracles. She wouldn’t complain again.

“If you want this, you’ll have to tell me if you honestly think you can win the next competition. Not to mention the next and the next. Because, after this last round, I like the thought of stealing the Rod more and more.”

There was a trace of remorse in his voice, and she knew bone-deep that he meant to steal the Paring Rod no matter what she said. If he could. What she didn’t know, however, was why he cared about her opinion concerning the next of the games right now.

He must have read the question in her eyes because he said gruffly, “I don’t want you hurt like this again.”

An ache bloomed in her chest. She would answer him. Not for the hamburger, but because of his concern. “I—” Shit. Honestly? She’d thought she would be able to win round one, that knowing the other teams would come after her would give her an advantage. Yet they had converged on her and she’d been helpless.

Next time, they would make another play for her, for every member of her team. There was just no way around it. And she couldn’t whine about fairness because, had the situation been reversed, she would have done the same thing to whoever had hurt her family.

Family. The single word echoed in her mind, and she remembered Taliyah’s doubt. All her life, she’d only ever wanted to be admired. Loved. Respected. All her life, she’d only ever let everyone down. She was Kaia the Disappointment.

“I’m sorry I lost,” she whispered.

His expression gentled, and his fingers found their way back to her brow, caressing. “You didn’t let me down. No one could have pulled a victory out of their hat with that kind of opposition.”

Comforting, but deep down she knew he would have found a way. He always did.

“You worried me, though,” he added, the gruffness returning. “I won’t lie about that.”

Spoken like a true consort, and longing filled her. She wanted that, wanted him. Now, always. So. For him, she would find a way. “Yes,” she finally answered. “I can win the next competition.”

Cold, hard, merciless. That’s how she would have to be. And she would. She would prove her worth, as she’d always wanted to do. No one would stop her.

The assassin-like thoughts were ruined when she yawned.

Strider fed her the hamburger, then asked her inane, easily answered questions so that she could have the shake as payment. When she finished, he said, “Rest now. I’ve got big plans for you later.”

Her gaze snapped to the apex of his thighs, to the semi-erection he currently sported.

A laugh boomed from him. “Dirty-minded Harpy.”

“You said big. I just assumed…” Hoped…

“Sleep,” he ordered, grinning.

“Well, was that what you meant or not?” Her eyelids fluttered closed, but she was grinning, too.

“You’ll just have to wait and find out.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THERE WAS A SLIGHT CHANCE William had kinda sorta perhaps gone slightly a wee bit too far. He would, of course, be the first to admit he might have made the tiniest of mistakes. Mistake or not—mostly not—he couldn’t be held responsible, he thought as he kicked his way through what was left of Gilly’s parents.

Bottom line: they’d asked for it. Literally asked for it. While he’d “worked,” jamming out to “Scotty Doesn’t Know” by Lustra, one of his favorite songs because he felt like the lyrics epitomized his life, he’d given his targets adrenaline injections, preventing them from passing out. Of course, he’d also torqued their veins, preventing them from bleeding out.

Fainting and blood loss ruined a good torturing every damn time.

Toward the end, when they’d realized there was no hope for survival, the begging had commenced. Only after they’d confessed to their sins, infuriating him beyond all reason as he learned that the abuse he’d imagined had not come close to the full truth, that Gilly had endured far worse, had he ended them. He almost wished he hadn’t. Would have been nice to stretch out the session for a few more days. Oh, well.

Now he had some cleaning up to do.

William turned a full circle, surveying the carnage and trying to decide where to begin. Maybe he should just walk away. There was just too much to do. Then he recalled the way humans liked to freak out, how news stations liked to blast “psychopath on the loose” stories, and figured word would reach Gilly. Not that he wanted to keep her in the dark about what had happened. He’d tell her. One day. In the far future. When she was older. Like…fifty, maybe.

After everything these people—no, these monsters—had done to her, she wouldn’t be upset. How could she be? They’d damaged her in the worst of ways when she’d been too young and weak to protect herself. He’d simply returned the favor.

His stomach churned as a thought occurred to him. Maybe she would have liked to kill them herself. To deliver her own vengeance, find closure, that sort of thing. Or, what if he had this all wrong and she had wanted them left alone? Humans were so particular about lines you could and couldn’t cross, and gods forbid if you dared leap over one. You were forever labeled wicked and fiendish.

Like William’s long-ago good buddy Vlad the Impaler. Talk about getting a bad rap. Behead a few thousand of your enemies, spear their bodies on pikes and display them for the world to see and boom, you were “evil.” It was ridiculous!

To humans, torture and death weren’t simply a part of the circle of life. The torturing was frowned upon, considered inhumane, and the death of a family member was a reason to mourn. They didn’t understand the soul carried on in some capacity or another, that might equaled right, and weakness invited the wrath of your rivals.

“What in all hell did you do?” a male voice suddenly gasped out from behind him.

William spun—and found himself facing a very pale Kane. “What are you doing here? In fact, how’d you get here?”

Kane’s hazel eyes never strayed from the wreckage. “I asked the Fates to send me to you,” he said distractedly. “How many people did you take out in here? A hundred?”

“What were you doing with the Fates? No one gets to see them. And why the hell seek me?”

“They summoned me, and we’ll get to that.” He pointed to something on the floor. “What is that?”

William didn’t bother to look. “Does it matter? Grab a trash bag and start chucking.” Why had the Fates summoned Kane? The second the question formed, William dismissed it. He didn’t really care. “We’ve got a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it.”

Recruiting the keeper of Disaster wouldn’t have been his first choice—they’d never really hung out. And besides, Kane attracted the kind of trouble he’d do best to avoid, for a while at least—but William wasn’t going to complain.

“Who are—were—these people?”

“Names are so last season, don’t you think? All you need to know is that they offended me.”

“Offended you,” Kane echoed, still unmoving.

“Yeah.”

Kane met his stare. “Their names wouldn’t happen to be Gilly’s Parents, would they? Because, the way I hear it, you were jonesing for a piece of them. Several pieces, it seems.” There was no condemnation in his tone, only acceptance.

The lack of condemnation didn’t matter. Never confirm nor deny something you’ve done, but always threaten those who question you. That had always been William’s motto. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll personally ensure your pancreas receives the same treatment.”

Kane didn’t piss his pants in fear. Just blinked over at him.

“Why were you with the Fates, anyway?” He still didn’t care, but he would have discussed something as boring as the weather if it meant changing the subject.

Kane shook his head, those brown, black and gold locks swaying against his cheeks. Without a word, he stomped off to the kitchen. He returned a short while later, two Hefty bags in hand. He gave one to William.

“Thanks.”

Quiet, they worked side by side for half an hour.

Kane ruined it with a sigh. “So you asked about the Fates.”

“I also asked why you came to see me in particular. I’ve already lost interest.”

“Well, find it again. You’ll want to hear this, since it will affect you and all.”

Smart move, offering a tidbit of information to entice him. William often used the same tactic. “Spill already.”

“They told me…they told me—” Kane released one end of his bag and scrubbed his weary face. “They told me I’d start the Apocalypse.”

A nasty little word, Apocalypse. William paused. “They what now?”

“You heard me.” His hand fell to the collar of his shirt and he jerked at the material. “I’m not gonna repeat myself.”

“You’re Disaster, so it makes sense, but there’s no way you could—” Every muscle in William’s body suddenly stiffened as a thought occurred to him. “Oh, hell, no. You will not sleep with her, do you hear me?”

Confusion furrowed Kane’s brow. “Sleep with who?”

He didn’t need this. “Why did you have the hags send you here, to me?” Each word was more clipped than the last.

“Because I hear you’re tight with Lucifer or something. That you created the Four Horsemen. And since those horsemen play a huge role in the end of the world, I just assumed—what? Why do you look like you’re about to vomit?”

This was bad. Bad, bad, bad. If the Fates had told Kane he’d start the Apocalypse, then he’d start the Apocalypse. But the fact that Kane had then thought to visit William…that meant the Apocalypse might start sooner than anyone realized. “I am not tight with Lucifer. Would a homie have torn my arm from its socket when I paid a visit to his little underground spa? Huh, huh? No!”

“No, but a brother might. Sibling rivalry, and all that.”

“He’s not my brother!” The lie slipped out easily, automatically, just as it had slipped out for most of his existence. But this was a Lord of the Underworld. Like he had room to judge. “Fine. He’s my brother.” And oh, did the admission grate. Sibling rivalry did not begin to explain the hatred between them. “What of it?”

Okay, wait a sec. He’d just realized something. The Harpies were descendants of Lucifer. Lucifer was his brother. Therefore William’s little crush on Kaia was—

Fucking gross! The words blasted through him, and he shuddered. Kaia was just going to have to live without the bliss of this touch.

Damn it! His brother ruined all his fun.

An overhead lightbulb shorted out, golden sparks spraying around Kane. He paid them no heed. “Nothing. I’m just curious. Are the horsemen good or bad? On our side or someone else’s?”

“Don’t know.” Except that he did.

“Fine. Let’s try this another way. You mentioned something about a woman…about me sleeping with her…”

No reaction. “So?”

“So who am I not supposed to sleep with, oh, Prince of Darkness?”

Yep. Sooner than anyone realized. “The only female horseman,” he grumbled, something constricting in his chest. “Or horsewoman. Whatever. They don’t really concern themselves with gender down there.”

“Okay, I’m confused.”

William stalked to the one clean recliner in the room and plopped down. How much of a pussy would he be if he put his head between his legs? Then again, he’d be an even bigger pussy if he hyperventilated. “Here it is, flat out. Lucifer and I have different mothers, but we share the same father. Hades.”

“Wait. I thought Hades and Lucifer were brothers.”

“So do a lot of people, because the pair of them are so fond of spreading the rumor. But here’s another big surprise—they’re both liars. Anyway, you want to hear the rest or should I let you finish telling me everything you don’t know?”

Kane’s eyes narrowed to slits but he waved a hand through the air.

“I didn’t like living down there.” Understatement. It had been hell. Ha. William had just made a funny. “I found a way to purge some of the darkness from inside me, and thus the Four Horsemen were created.”

“How do I not know this? My demon lived down there, too.”

“Hello, Disaster existed on Lucifer’s side. We had a little trouble sharing and had to divide the space into different realms. Luci took the fire and the demons, blah, blah, blah and I took purgatory and the souls. Although, his minions would sneak in and steal from me, but I’ve forgiven him for that.” Forgiveness in the form of a curse, he thought with a grin. One Luci would never be able to break.

“What does this have to do with me?” Kane asked.

“I’m getting to that.” What to tell, what to tell. Hades had chosen to shack up on Lucifer’s side. Apparently he viewed William as an embarrassment who lacked a truly “evil” soul.

First, rubbish. No one was more evil than William. Look at what he’d done to these humans. And he wasn’t sorry! Second, there was nothing wrong with wanting to break from family tradition and be your own person.

You’re digressing. When the Greeks had taken over the heavens, they’d imprisoned the Titans, and Hades, who had helped Zeus claim the throne, was deemed uncontrollable and imprisoned, too. William had used the heavenly distraction to his advantage and finally made his escape.

Not wanting to war for the underworld throne, wanting it all for himself, Lucifer had helped him.

William had spent many glorious centuries after that screwing anything that moved. Even Hera, Zeus’s beloved queen. Of course, Zeus ultimately caught him with his pants down, and before he could jump out a heavenly window, William had found himself cursed and locked in yet another prison.

Now he was free, and he could flash to and from different locations once again. Life was sweet!

“William?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You were about to tell me how this has anything to do with me.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Damn it, tell me why you think I’m going to sleep with one of your freaking offspring,” Kane demanded with a shudder. “’Cause that’s just gross. I’m already vomiting in my mouth.”

He rested his elbows on his knees and glared. Deep breath in. “For you to start the Apocalypse, you’d have to help free a horseman. And the only reason I can think of for you to help set one of those bastards free is because you’d fallen in love. You’re not into men, so that leaves my girl. And the only reason you’d fall in love with her was because you’d slept with her.” Deep breath out.

Kane snorted. “What, her girl parts are laced with crack?”

“Basically, yes,” he said, deadpan.

At last Kane lost his air of disbelief. “Forewarned is forearmed. I won’t visit hell. So, problem solved.”

“I like where your head’s at, even if it’s in Stupid World.”

“Hey—”

“Listen. The Fates are not kind. They didn’t drop you here out of the goodness of their hearts. They don’t have hearts. They saw you begin the Apocalypse, and so they started arranging the dominos in a line. You will now face temptation on every corner and somehow, someway, they will get you into hell.”

Before Kane could form a reply, something busted through the window, shattering the glass, rolling between them. They looked at it, then at each other. A grenade.

“Oh, shit,” William said, jumping to his feet.

“Fire in the hole,” Kane shouted, reaching for him.

They were too late. Boom!

Fire licked over him—and about a thousand shards of wood and rock—as intense air pressure sent him flying. Up, up he flew. Down, down he fell. When he landed, he landed on his head, cracking his skull. Kane smashed on top of him, crushing him. The warrior didn’t get back up.

Damned Disaster. William knew exactly where to lay the blame for this.

“You…okay…man?” He managed to work the question out of his raw throat.

Something hard slammed into his temple, and darkness swallowed him in one tasty bite. He knew nothing more.

WILLIAM…FLOATED. A second after the thought formed, something cold and hard pressed against his razored back. Wheels began squeaking, little bumps up and down shooting fire through him, and he realized he’d been laid flat on a gurney, someone carting him away. Do not groan. Do not cringe.

“This one looks dead,” a masculine voice said. It was unfamiliar. Fiftyish. With the raspy quality of a smoker.

“No, sir. Not yet.” Another male, this one young, probably early twenties. “But if you think he’s bad, you should see the other one. The demon.”

“Now that just won’t do. I need them both alive.”

“But, sir—”

“Do not question me, son. Do whatever it takes, but keep both these creatures alive.”

A pause, an audible gulp. “This one isn’t a demon, though. We should—”

“I don’t care what the hell he is. He was with the other one inside that bloodbath. He deserves what he gets.”

No pause this time. “Yes, sir. I agree, sir.”

The gurney hit another bump, a bigger bump, knocking William’s head a second time. Just as before, there was no stopping the darkness.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The slow, rhythmic beep blended with the sound of rushing footsteps and frantic breaths. William blinked open his eyes, and gods, that hurt. It was like he had splinters under his lids and each of those sharp little pieces of wood had scraped at his corneas. When he was finally able to focus, he frowned.

Date: 2015-12-18; view: 531