The next day I spent alone walking around the lake and pondering over our conversation the night before. I had infuriated Dorian to almost lose control of his desire to kill me and I believe his thirst as well. I am not sure which end frightened me more. I knew in that moment, as he violently held my neck exposed to him, he was on the absolute brink of drawing every last drop of my blood from me. Yet, he stopped. What I had said had not only angered him, I think that he saw a truth to it. He was passionate about nothing and completely alone. One thing he once accused my life as being without as well. He could not love. He could only become angry and kill. Death and violence was all he knew.
Dorian said he did not need passion. He agreed that he felt nothing and covered it with the though
