This time the blow connects under his cheekbone, sending a wave of pain rattling through his eye socket and into his skull. His head rocks back on his neck, and he falls back a step. And it's delicious.

Fire marks the spot where Javert's fist touched his skin. He revels in it. His words are punctuated by ragged breaths, and he drags his gaze back to the man before him.

'I have drunk, from the font of your heart. You, will be a part of me, long after your bones, have turned to dust.'