The moon and stars, they were beautiful. Their light crept in through the bedroom window, dancing along the floor and pirouetting along the walls in pale streams.

Yet, I wasn't watching them; something held an equal sense of beauty and a higher percentage of my attention. In the darkness, shadow kissed and held in a momentary pose of perfection, Deacon slept, oblivious to the turmoil of emotions that were riding me like a John would a cheap hooker.

I watched him with sorrow and with resentment. I watched him with an ache in my chest that pined for his touch, yet I watched him with a burn that wanted to...