" The last vampire I knew that could do what you just did, did it on purpose. She would recall a memory of pleasure, and she would pick someone to give it to. It could be a reward, and it was, but it could also be punishment. Sometimes she would choose someone who did not wish to feel such pleasures, and she would force them to experience it."

"A kind of rape," I said.

He nodded.

"You're talking about Belle Morte, aren't you?"

He nodded, again.

"She enjoyed watching them writhe, especially if they didn't want to do it," I said.

"You say that as a statement, not a question."

"I've met her, remember?"

"You are exactly right. She loved watching prim, proper women and men, forced to spill themselves upon the floor and flop about, experiencing a pleasure greater than any they had ever felt before. It pleased her to watch the righteous brought low."

"Yeah, that sounds like her."

"But you truly felt nothing. It did not excite you to watch Graham writhe."

"Why should it?"

He smiled then, and there was relief in his eyes. "That you would ask the question makes me worry less about you."

"Worry how?" I asked.

"It has been speculation for centuries whether Belle was formed into the type of," he seemed to search for a word, "creature she was by the ardeur and her powers running to flesh and pleasure, or whether she was always as she is, and the power simply made her more."

"It's been my experience, Requiem, that people become more of who they are in extremes, both good and bad. Give a truly good person power, and they're still a good person. Give a bad person power, and they're still a bad person. The question is always about the person in between. The one that isn't evil, or good, but just ordinary. You don't always know what an ordinary person is like on the inside. "

― Laurell K. Hamilton , Incubus Dreams (Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter, #12)