Damen had
found his gaze drawn to the easy
arrangement of Laurent's limbs, the
balance of wrist on knee, the long, finely
articulated bones. He had been aware of
a diffuse but growing tension, a
sensation almost like he was waiting . . .
waiting for something, unsure what it
was. It was like being alone in a pit with
a snake: the snake could relax, you could
not.

Autore: C.S. Pacat