Disclaimer: I do not own any of the fantastical characters and/or ideas created by the all-mighty and wonderful Lynne Ewing. I am simply borrowing them (temporarily) for my, and your amusement.

Author's Note: Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers-- what would I do without you ( cough cough suicidal hint cough cough) I apologize for the enormous amount of time that has elapsed since the updating of the last chapter. It shall not happen again! (I hope) And thank you to Nym, who reminded me to update (I forgot...)

Castrata had trouble facing her father for a while after the incident. After all, it is rather unnerving when your own father attempts to seduce you. Unnerving, sad, and rather depressing. All in all, she preferred Tymmie. He was a better kisser, anyway.

No, no. We aren't thinking about that, she reminded herself. For some reason, it was very hard to get Tymmie out of her mind. A fact that was bugging her. An itch that she couldn't scratch, if you get what I mean. But whatever.

The fact was, she didn't know what to think. Sometimes, she had convinced herself that Tymmie was totally hot. Which he was, but… No! Not thinking about that! Sometimes, Castrata hated the randomness of her mind. It was irking.

Other times, however, her thoughts were all about Daniel, Ariasti's brother. Who, while he was hot, was normal. Something about Tymmie attracted her. Maybe the danger. In part, she could understand how her mother could fall for the bad guy. Something about the danger of the situation, and the forbidden quality was strangely alluring. Not that she could see what had possessed her mother to marry Stanton, of all people…

Castrata gave herself a little shake, and attempted to return to her homework. Not working. Her thoughts kept returning to Tymmie. He was hot, she decided. There was no question about that… Stop!

Castrata went to the sink and dunked her head in it, disregarding her clothes completely. The shock of the cold water definitely removed Tymmie from her mind.

Now she could concentrate on her homework. Unfortunately, her father chose that moment to appear in her bedroom. "Why is your hair wet?" Was the first thing he said.

"Don't ask." Castrata muttered darkly, attempting to push Tymmie from her mind.

"I'm asking."

Castrata sighed. "I'm trying to concentrate, Dad. The water was to keep my mind off of… certain things… which you have successfully returned it to."

"Such as?"

Castrata sighed again. Her father wasn't making this easy. "Well," she began, rather lamely.

"Never mind," Stanton cut her off. Inwardly, Castrata sighed in relief. "I just wanted to let you know that Tymmie's downstairs, and he's waiting for you. Said he had to talk to you in private."

Castrata froze. "Send him up," she heard herself say, and the minute her father was out of the room, she jumped up and furiously began drying her hair. She couldn't understand her need to impress, but she let it rule her anyway. She heard Tymmie walking down the hall, drawing nearer to her room, and through herself down on her bed, and grabbed her book.

Tymmie entered. "Hey," he said.

"Is that all you're going to say?" Castrata asked, mildly, her face betraying nothing, as she set her book down. "You were about to kill me last time I saw you, and now all you're saying is 'hey'?"

Tymmie blinked, and shrugged. "Last time, I had some personal issues," he said.

Castrata gave a rather ungentlemanly and unladylike snort.

Tymmie smiled at her, "What say we pick up where we left off?" He said, eying her.

"Where would that be?" Castrata asked, instantly suspicious.

"Here," Tymmie said, closing the space between them, and sweeping her into his arms.

His lips were soft and gentle, just as she had remembered them. There was a tender quality to them that had been lacking last time. It was as if he was more tuned to what she might want.

His hands found her waste, pulling her gently against him. Her hands were wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer… she had to get closer to him…

He made a slightly strangled sound against her mouth that she realized was a groan. Their bodies pushed closer together, smashing against each other. He explored the recesses of her mouth, drinking her in.

It was as if they were in a contest to see how long they could remain seriously lip-locked. They obviously would win. That kiss went on and on.

His hands trailed upwards, caressing gently. Her hands felt the muscles of his back, smoothing downwards…

"What have we here?" Dad asked from the doorway.

Castrata and Tymmie sprang apart.

Castrata stared, wide-eyed at her father, who was smirking slightly. How much had he seen? Of course, that didn't matter much—they had been seriously kissing, and there was no way that Dad could mistake it for a game, or anything else for that matter.

She sneaked a look at Tymmie. Surprisingly, his face was quite blank—no thought, or even emotion sparkled in those gray eyes.

"What have we here?" Dad repeated.

Castrata steeled herself, avoiding her father's eyes. She really did not feel like answering. "Umm…" she began, in a rather small voice.

Dad raised his eyebrows.

"Just what it seems," Tymmie cut into the silence.

"Which is?"

"Just what it seems," Tymmie repeated.

Castrata's father raised his eyebrows again. That wasn't a good sign. "Which is?" His voice was deadly soft.

"Oh, come on, Dad!" Castrata said, "Like you don't know?"

Her father stopped dead in his tracks.

"Like you never had some fun with Mom!"

"I married your mother!" Her father snarled, "Are you prepared to do the same to him?"

"You've done this to countless girls for centuries!" Castrata sobbed, crying now. "Why is it suddenly bad if I have a bit of fun! What's the matter with that?"

"A little bit of fun?" Her father repeated, "That wasn't a little fun, Castrata Selene Killingsworth—that was serious—and you know it! If I hadn't interrupted when I did, who knows how far you would have gone!"

Castrata flinched. "So what if I did?" She asked, tears silently streaking down her face, "It's my choice. Not yours. Mine. If I want to do…." She trailed off, sobbing silently. "You did it all the time," she whispered, noiseless tears streaking down her face.

Her father stopped, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Think what you're saying, Castrata." He demanded softly. "Think what you're implying."

"I know what I'm saying!" Castrata yelled. "I'm telling you: it's my choice! Even if I did want to go all the way—which I don't—than you have no business trying to stop me! You didn't let anyone take you away from Mom—even though you both could have gotten killed. Or worse, you could have committed her to an immortal time without hope. But no—nothing could stop you! Why should I be any different?" Castrata demanded.

Dad ran his fingers through his hair. "I swear, you get more like your mother every day," he muttered. "Look," he said, finally meeting Castrata's eyes, "I won't try and stop you. You're right: it's your decision." He smiled, wryly, "I know from experience how hard it is to love the bad guy or the good girl, though."

Castrata smiled, slightly waterily.

"Now go splash some water on your face," Dad ordered.

"Good girl?" Tymmie asked, the minute Castrata was out of the room "So you're sure?"

Dad nodded. "How else do you explain her amulet? She's a Daughter—and we both know it. The question is: who's going to be the one to betray her."

Author's Second Note: I apologize for all the fluffy stuff. Hee, hee. It was fun to write, though... Having a writer's block over here-- review, and send me your ideas!

Becca/Dreamer (who is not at all sorry for all the fluff in the last chapter...)