Lion Head Mesa And which is to remain unknowable and unremembered

They were only coyotes, he supposed. Anything that happened here would mean nothing, not that there was any reason for him to hesitate for that reason. Phaedra's stubborn eyes drifted across his mind again, followed confusingly by Arielle's. Part of him felt guilty when he met Jawahir's eye and both faces curled away like smoke on a breeze.

His meal was forgotten as well. Silence yawned between him and Ramesses. He licked his lips quickly, hoping to hide the eagerness from the pair of them. Eager, and disgusted with himself. Grief and stress had their claws in him, breaking down the restraint he might otherwise have shown. They left him with an emptiness he was desperate to fill with some other distraction. That was originally what made him wander in the halls.

His tongue rasped against the roof of his dry mouth. A tour, he agreed hoarsely. Yes. I should like that. What would Ramesses think of Aventus if he roughed up his precious jewel, or any of the servants? It would be all too easy to lose himself and thrash a coyote, confusing lust and aggression as he did with their kind ... he prayed he could keep hold himself and seize the distraction without any accompanying destruction.

But if he did lose control ... Well, they were only coyotes.