Better. Was that the word for it? Because he wasn't feeling better. His need wasn't clawing at him anymore, sure, but that just left room for undeniable guilt and horror. And what was rapidly starting to feel like acceptance, and that was not okay with him. Not at all.
He grunted at Liam and looked out the windshield, seeing not the road or the pavement, but the buildings that might be full of people. Flats and houses that held sleeping meals.
He shifted in his seat. "You'll show me," he said. "How to control it." And then he would control it forever, and never take another life again. Fucking ever.