There’s no such thing as a nice bad boy. I decided quite early in Katz Strong’s short visit that he was wicked to the core. Just the sight of his strangely luminous, blue eyes informed me that he had a devious and evil side to him. What lay under the beautiful layer of his skin was nothing less than pure darkness.
Why did I fall for Katz’s game? How he slithered into the house and took ownership of Kent Tacoma, used a room to sleep in, ate my food, and freshened up in one of my baths. What spell did he cast over me when I agreed that he could stay for two days? How dared he, an interloper, use his boyish magic on me? How appalling I thought him. Damn him! And damn me for allowing him to stay!
And Katz showed no sign of tender and caring feelings for me. His malevolent sneer when we made
