And far more than knowing what was real, and what wasn’t, he wanted, badly, to touch her. To kiss her. To grasp her thigh, and tear that slit higher... To lay her down amid the ruins, writhing and moaning beneath him.“Do you want to know, Owen?” She breathed, and he felt a fiery rush in his blood, “Do you want to know what he did with them,” she shrugged, letting the shoulder of her dress fall free, “when he was finished?”Owen swallowed, unable to speak.“Over the edge...” she smiled, letting her. Karsk was a humorless politician who waited impatiently until the pleasantries were over and then gestured us into an adjoining room. He moved to a console and depressed a series of keys that opened up another room. He introduced the man standing in there as Antin, curator of the Morling artifacts."Antin, the floor is yours."Karsk stepped back, his political duties evidently over.Antin pulled a drawer from the wall and extracted a ten-inch metal cylinder. He showed us that it was open at one. More

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