I froze. Normally, that isn't something I do. I have no trouble with emotions and confrontations; with speaking the very thing that's on my mind at the very moment I feel it. But I couldn't find anything to say. My voice wasn't the only thing that wasn't responding. For that first, terrifying moment I couldn't think. No amount of strength or power, of age or blood, was assisting me now.

I couldn't read his eyes, either. The same calm, collected expression he always possessed was on his face. It was as though nothing was the matter…either that, or he simply didn't care.

That snapped me from my muted state. Perhaps it was anger that drew me from silence, but I didn't care to analyze the feeling. Stepping back from the threshold I lifted my chin, feeling my resolve return with a satisfying finality.

"Julian." His name passed from my lips coolly and without trembling, a task I was quite proud of. My confidence lifted further and my smile became more natural as I moved away from him. His expression didn't change as he watched me, and a long, silent moment passed between us. It was a moment I both despised and never wanted to see end.

He didn't say a word as he began to close the distance between us, stepping across the threshold and into my room. Rather than voicing an attempted protest I chose to move back and away, deliberately turning my back to him and facing the mirror over my vanity. My hair really does need a bit more attention, I told myself, justifying my actions as I twisted stray tendrils into place, securing them with pins.

"You're going out?" He phrased it as a question, his voice coming from far closer than I expected. From a few feet behind me, at that. I didn't turn, though, and instead kept my eyes focused on my reflection.

"Why do you ask?" My tone was as detached as I could make it. He was asking questions for a reason, but it was a reason I hadn't figured out yet. What did it matter where I was going? But for some reason, he wasn't letting it go. Trying to figure out why was too much right now. I couldn't make sense of why he was here let alone what he wanted.

"Who?"

That was a question to turn around for, and when I did it took all my self-control not to step back. Because he was right there. Not a few feet away, but so close my arm brushed his chest when I turned. The contact sent a sharp sensation along my skin, and I flickered my eyes away from his face to keep him from seeing my reaction. It wasn't good to let him see what I was feeling. Especially when what I was feeling had to do with him. Weakness was the worst thing I could display right now.

"Why does it matter?" There, indifference. It was perfect. This performance would serve the purpose of re-defining why I had been one of the greatest actresses of my time. If I could get through this, I could easily go back to the stage without a second thought. There. The motivation of theatre was enough to clear the fog from my mind and the curve of my lips became more natural as I regarded his impersonal expression.

"Who." Now there was no question in the word, and a quiet intensity began to grow within his eyes. Dimly, I knew there was a logical explanation for this but it was so ludicrous to my mind that I simply pushed it away without a second thought.

Because Julian Luna didn't get jealous. Especially of whoever came to my bed. Maybe that could have happened in times before, when we were lovers, but now…now he had made a decision about his existence and who was going to walk through it with him.

And it certainly wasn't me that he chose.

No…it wasn't me…

I felt the familiar cold knot of anger coil in my stomach, a sensation I shouldn't have any longer, yet one that refused to go away. My fingers curled, the nails making small, deep indentations on my palms as I fought considerably for calm once more. All of these actions were subtle, though, and I knew there was literally no way for him to know I was upset. Or hurting. Or anything, at that. No, to him right now I was nothing more than cold, dispassionate Lillie…walled up securely from prying eyes and thoughts. It was safest this way, and best.

Wasn't it?

Maybe it wasn't, because now I could feel his anger. I'd never felt that before, not directed at me. Not even when he had discovered I was responsible for the photographs had he been this enraged. Had I been human I would have recoiled, but nothing was going to force me to step back now.

"An artist." The lie came so easily from my lips it very nearly astonished me. "He's featured at one of the local galleries. I've been seeing him for almost a month." I wanted nothing more than to turn away, but my eyes stayed riveted on his face, awaiting the reaction I so desperately desired. How does it feel? I thought, how does it feel to know I'm not sitting here waiting for you to finish your little affair and come back? How does it feel to know I'm not hurting?

At least the first part of that statement was true. Lying to yourself, my mother had said, was the worst thing a person could do. But I justified this by thinking that if I said it enough to myself that would make it come true. It was a pretty pathetic form of justification, but I could chide myself on that later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting through these next few minutes. If I could do that, I wouldn't have to worry any longer about what he'd think or what he might say. Because he'd be so angry with me he'd never walk through that door again.

That wasn't what I wanted, and I knew it. But this was another good time to lie to myself.

So I did.

"His name is Carson," I continued, not waiting for his response. Now that I'd begun this deception it seemed impossible to keep myself quiet. I wanted to hurt him, to hurt him far worse than I had before with the private detective and photos. Because he had hurt me in ways he couldn't comprehend. Ways he didn't care to comprehend, at that. He'd been conducting his own liaison with that damned blonde reporter without any regard for how it made me feel…so why shouldn't I enjoy this? Why shouldn't I…

"You are not going to see him again."

The decisive, firm tremor of his voice stopped my train of thought, and I looked to his face again with a look of pure surprise. I couldn't have heard him right. It was impossible to think that now of all times, he'd be commanding me. He was my Prince, of course, but certainly…certainly no man believed he could control me? Me, of all women? Surely he didn't think…

The look on his face told me otherwise. Because that was exactly what he was thinking. The calm, collected expression in his eyes, the one designed to intimidate anyone into giving him exactly what he was asking for, was present on those exquisitely sculpted features, and I fought against the scoff that wanted to escape my lips. I wanted to laugh, to come back with a response that would wipe that expression from his face permanently.

He was so completely and utterly frustrating. Frustrating, impossible…and something else. Something else I wasn't willing to admit, let alone even think about.

Because that would be a very bad idea.

Because…I was remembering something else. Another time similar to this one, another time about three months ago…

"If you hadn't been the one that sired him…"

Christ, he'd said that already! I turned away from the cold finality of his words, shutting my eyes against what I knew had to be done. Zane was out of control, I knew, and the breaches he'd made of the Masquerade were unforgivable…and yet the realization of what I had to do was causing an ache in my chest. An ache I hadn't felt since the last time I drew breath. Nostalgia, I told myself, because certainly there's no heart in my chest any longer. Not how it used to be.

I could feel him behind me from a distance, his eyes fixated on my back, watching every movement I made. He knew me well enough to read my reaction from the simplest actions of body language, and he would know how I felt before I spoke a word.

Not giving him that chance, I whirled to face him and allowed my anger to blaze through my eyes. Anger I hadn't known I was feeling until I let it rush through my veins with the scorching heat of fresh blood. His eyes flickered with a faint show of surprise but he still held his composure, and once again I hated him for it.

"How much of this is about the Masquerade, and how much of it is because it's Zane?" I let the accusation burst from my lips without bothering to consider how it sounded, taking the three steps across the room that would bring me only a few feet from him. It was late, the Haven long since closed, and we were the only ones in the club's interior.

I saw the anger flare in his face, the muscle in his jaw tightening as the indication I was on thin ice, but I didn't care. I didn't give a damn about what he was feeling. I was too focused on what he was doing to me, what I was feeling and what I was going to have to do. He wasn't giving me a choice, and I knew it. I knew that there was no way around Zane's death, and that I was going to have to execute it. My own anger was greater than his now, perhaps greater than anyone's had ever been, and I just didn't care what happened.

"He broke the Masquerade," he said firmly, his eyes locking on mine as if daring me to step one more inch out of line. "You know the laws, Lillie. I cannot make exceptions to violators who put our existence in danger."

The laughter that burst from my lips was harsh, grating, and completely inappropriate, and I knew it. I didn't care, but I still knew it. "You cannot make exceptions? No, Julian," I said, my voice dropping to a harsh tremor I scarcely recognized, "it isn't that you cannot, it's that you will not. Not for Zane. And yet you continue to seduce the journalist, to conduct your own affair with no regard for the danger it places us in! Don't you see that? Or are you too blind to-"

His hands cut me off as they circled my upper arms roughly, jerking me against his chest with a roughness I'd all but forgotten. His touch was almost foreign now – how long had it been since the last time? – but my skin thrummed with a familiar sensation I shoved from my mind. I didn't want to feel anything now other than remorse and anger – and hate – but my body was refusing to comply with my wishes. Clenching my teeth I met his eyes with a harsh, challenging glare and found the same waiting for me. I didn't know in that moment if he was angry for my defiance or angry at the obvious truth in my words. It wasn't as though he had any way to deny it.

"If you do not see to this Lillie," he said, his voice low and harsh, "then I will. You will leave me no choice." The look in his eyes was dark, dangerous, and for a brief instant I wondered if he wouldn't simply kill me as well.

But instead…

That was not something I needed to be remembering now. The clarity of that realization was enough to snap me back to the present – and my senses. Momentarily grateful I no longer blushed, I averted my eyes from him entirely. The conversation was accomplishing little – except irritating me – and I was more than ready to end it.

Evidently, he had other plans. I felt the quick warmth of his hands close over my shoulders and before I could respond I was turned to face him, pressed against his chest without any trace of former intimacy in his touch. His eyes were shades darker than I'd seen them before, but for the moment I wasn't disturbed by it. I was too caught up in being angry with him, angry at his audacity and his nerve, and at myself for not being able to simply twist away and not look back.

"He's an artist, Julian. And he's of no threat to the Masquerade. Why shouldn't I seek companionship?" I was pleased with the cool tone of my voice, and even more so with the indifferent expression that refused to go away. I didn't want it to go away; because the longer it remained the more likely he would be to believe it.

"You aren't going to see him again." The tone in his voice hadn't changed, and my irritation flared, as did my eyes. But his hands didn't move, only tightened on my shoulders that much more.

"And why is that?" I didn't care if I had already asked the question, it hadn't been answered and it was an answer I wanted. Because if he could take a lover, why couldn't I? Why couldn't I –

Oh.

His lips were on mine before I could speak another syllable.

And for the moment, that was perfectly fine with me.