It was impossible not to appreciate her.
From every strand of her satin black hair, to her velvet black eyes, to her razor-wire black heart, she was magnificent.
She swayed towards him; the spoon on her forehead dyed the deepest and most wanton of blues, her enhanced pheromones tracing fire on his skin, her torn dress hinting at yielding, supple flesh.
"On Bajor I am Alenis Tarel, on Vulcan T'Vei, on Andoria Hrynni zh'Rithre, on the Klingon Home World I am Sayba of House Goradh, on Romulus Aimal."
She stopped, millimetres away, her head tilted just so that her words passed through his parted lips and danced on his tongue. "Here I am Nasesk Orak."
He breathed her in and sunk the knife to its hilt in her chest.
As she sagged he bent down and whispered in her ear, "I've only ever needed one name, everyone calls me Garak."