Sweat beaded his upper lip. His tongue flicked out to remove the secretion. Like a snake, she thought.
He reached to the clutter on the side table, waving the cocktail napkin tagged and bagged in plastic. Unblinking eyes transfixed hers. “Where were you last night?”
“Without me to look after you, you’d die.”
A wrinkled hand slithered over the bedclothes. The strength of his grip was astounding, crushing her bones. “You’re a serpent in my bosom. Just like all you people.”
She allowed no sign of pain to show. “What did you want for breakfast?”