A pause.
His eyes moved to the two broken women at the base of the rock shelf. Back to her.
"You have already seen how I work," he said.
Her mouth was dry.
Her thighs were wet.
She was aware of both of these things and was managing neither of them.
She looked at Rika.
Rika was unconscious. Her face peaceful in the particular way that only complete exhaustion produces. Her body showed the evidence of the day — the marks, the bruises, the complete collapse of every voluntary muscle — and she was breathing slowly and her expression was not pain.
She looked at the other woman.
Same.
Edda thought: 'if they are alive,' and stopped the thought there because she did not want to follow it to its conclusion.
She looked at him.
Twelve inches of cock in the moonlight pointing at her with the patient certainty of something that has been adjusted for her body and is not going anywhere.
She took a step back.
