George felt that familiar rush of sensation, and it was accompanied by a feeling of terror. He knew what this was, and the loss of control it brought was terrifying. He remembered the worry on Wrath's face when she told him about her nightmares, about the things he'd done in them...
He reeled back, throwing himself against the wall of the alley. With his blood running hot and his skin terribly sensitized, the abrasive scrape of brick just made him moan. He curled into a ball, his fingers locked around his legs and digging into his calves.
Don't move, he told himself. He wanted, God, how he wanted-
But he was not in control. He was a danger to other people right now. Don't move. He clung onto the thought like a life raft in a storm.