I have to know" "What? What do you have to know?" "What you taste like. " Another step. What happens when you know?" she rasped. "I stop wondering. Stop dreaming of you every night, thinking of you every minute of every day. " Another step closer. "I think you wonder, too. I think you dream of me and wonder. You hate yourself for it. You hate me for it, but you cannot stop.
She did not so much cook as assassinate food.