Is pleasure worth dying for? That's a question her lovers must have asked themselves at least once before ultimately passing away.
Morinth was a fugitive, having been running from the authorities for centuries now: she was an Asari,
which meant she enjoyed intimacy with her lovers through the connection of each other's minds. That was normal enough, but what was not normal was her genetic disorder.
No one who enjoyed her sensual touch ever survived the encounter.
She was confident they enjoyed their last minutes in this universe, and that was good enough for her. She became smarter, more cunning with each new partner, and she had no intention of stopping.
Even her own mother was appalled by her very existence, and more than once had attempted to murder Morinth, her own flesh, and blood! And they called HER a criminal?!
It was her mother who should be judged instead.
Would Morinth ever stop her little game of seduction? Why should she? She had even been worshiped centuries ago, with villagers sacrificing their daughter to her.
She was like a Goddess, and no one would stop her. Morality meant nothing to Morinth, only life and death and pleasure mattered any longer.
Now she had a new target in mind, one far more fascinating than any she had met before: Commander Shepard, strong and willful.
Perhaps, just perhaps, he will be the one being not to die from her touch.