It takes a small while for Azwel to regain his senses, for his breathing to grow calm. He slowly, gently pulls his lips from hers and looks down. A faintly sad look crosses his face.

He eases himself off of her and lies down on the bed next to her. He knows the chemicals will gradually leach from his brain and he'll regain his mind and loathe himself for what he's done. His eyes fall shut.

Words crowd in his brain--apologies, self-recriminations, dry observations that this is the best chance she'll have to kill him, now. But nothing comes out. He lies still, his eyes opening slightly, and looks at her face, white in the dim glow of the lamp.