icial flames in the
fireplace. His hate for her was not bounded merely by those lonely hours
she had forced upon him. No, it was far more encompassing.

He hated her with a deep, burning savagery that was deadly in its
passion. He hated her for her money, the money she kept securely from
him. He hated her for the paltry allowance she doled out to him, as if
he were an irresponsible child. It was as if she were constantly
reminding him in every glance and gesture, "I made a bad bargain when I
married you. You wanted me, my money, everything, and had nothing to
give in return except your own doltish self. You set a trap for me,
baited with lies and a false front. Now you are caught in your own trap
and will remain there like a mouse to eat from my hand whatever crumbs I
stoop to give you."

But some day his hate would be appeased. Yes, some day soon he would
kill her!

He shot a sideways glance at her, wondering if by chance she
suspected.... She hadn't moved. Her lips were pouted into a half smile;
the sex-opera had probably reached one of its more pleasurable moments.

Hyrel let his eyes shift back to the fireplace again. Yes, he would kill
her. Then he would claim a rightful share of her money, be rid of her
debasing dominance.

* * * * *

He let the thought run around through his head, savoring it with mental
taste buds. He would not kill her tonight. No, nor the next night. He
would wait, wait until he had sucked the last measure of pleasure from
the thought.

It was like having a bottle of rare old wine on a shelf where it could
be viewed daily. It was like being able to pause again and again before
the bottle, hold it up to the light, and say to it, "Some day, when my
desire for you has reached the ultimate, I shall unstopper you quietly
and sip you slowly to the last soul-satisfying drop." As long as the
bottle remained there upon the shelf it was symbolic of that pleasurable
moment....

He snapped out of his reverie and realized he had been wasting precious
moments. There would be time enough tomorrow for gloating. Tonight,
there were other things to do. Pleasurable things. He remembered the
girl he had met the night before, and smiled smugly. Perhaps she would
be awaiting him even now. If not, there would be another one....

He settled himself deeper into the chair, glanced once more at his wife,
then let his head lean comfortably back against the chair's headrest.
His