"Oh, just get the fuck out!" he snapped, voice rising to a full, booming shout. Why couldn't she just let him be? Leave him in peace. She had to make this harder, had to act like there was a way around this.

"What do you want to do with this, Sookie, huh?" he asked, rounding on her, stepping in now to fill that gap that he had created. "You want the truth? You want to forgive me my wrongs? You want to believe that as long as I felt bad after every kill, it's okay? Well I didn't. I enjoyed it. Not just back then, with Herrick. And oh, oh, I had fun with Herrick. I built a name for myself, and it felt fucking good. Even years after I'd left his side, tried to scramble onto the wagon, they still talked about me. And you know what else? The looks, the looks on their fucking faces when they saw us, when they really saw..."

It came rushing back to him then, like the memory of a hit after so long without, tingling along his skin, yearning for it burning low in his belly. "That's the best part. It's like a rush, better than anything else in the world. The screams, the tears, the way they fight." He flashed a cold smile, suddenly. "It's not use at all, but it's fun to watch them. And the blood. It tasted so sweet. We bathed in it, Daisy and I. We fucked after, our bodies slick with it, and licked it off each other's skin. And I didn't .. feel .. sorry .. at all."