A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I was too lazy (and too busy with school) to type this up, and I had to cut it off in the middle of what I'd planned for this chapter; it just got too long. So yes, it's kind of a cliffhanger, and yes, if you review (or even if you don't, although you know I'd love to hear what you think) I'll update soon. Enjoy! (And thanks to Silver Phoenix 117 for this chapter's lyrics!)

Disclaimer: Everything but Emmie is AHAR's.

"And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken,

I just want you to know who I am."

-The Goo Goo Dolls, "Iris"

I'm in New York, a few minutes after leaving Moira, shaking my head to dispel the memory of Sutton. I won't think of that now; I can't think about it…of how I lost control, how I was stupid enough to fall in love with a human—

Instead, I stare across the near-empty street at a man lounging against the wall of a building. I smile, thinking that if he's there for the reason I think he is, he'll be an easy meal.

I cross the street a block away from him and slowly walk towards him, relieved to be dressed how I am (I'd planned on going to a nightclub, but this is even better; he's not even drunk like the boys at the club would be). When I come close to him, he looks up; I immediately know he's got a family at home, a wife, a daughter, that he comes here for fun—his family thinks he's got the night shift at a gas station.

"Hey," he calls to me. I smile slightly and continue walking towards him, disregarding the fact that his daughter will miss him. Heartless, someone whispers in my mind. I start, ready to shove up my walls, but quickly realize that was my thought. I push it away before I can think about Moira's earlier implications. My kind must be heartless; it is how we survive.

I walk over to him. "Yes?" I say, feigning innocence. He holds out a piece of hard candy, as if that will make me come closer. I reach for it with no intention of eating it and he grabs both of my wrists with one hand. I let him drag me closer, but then he reaches for my chest with his other hand. Oh, no, I force into his mind, I wouldn't do that. He throws me a bewildered glance, but doesn't let go, so I hiss inhumanely. Squeeze his mind, and he immediately falls limp in my arms.

Who's the predator now? I ask mockingly, silently laughing. The skin on his neck is leathery, but his blood is untainted, beyond sweet, making up for that. I drink until I'm not thirsty anymore, until he's got no blood left. I never bothered to learn how to feed without killing.

Then I drop him, letting his body slump to the ground, and I return to New Mayhem.

-vVv-

I stand against the wall of the nightclub, watching Jager. I have yet to stop hiding my aura, but as I study him, his calm, controlled air, I wonder if he will even notice me when I do reveal myself. He was around for centuries before he met me; perhaps he's just gone back to his own life without me. Like he did before.

He is speaking with Aubrey in the gloom; it's ironically like that first night all over again. Only this time I'm not going to go up and talk to them. Jager's emerald green eyes flash in the blood red light as he laughs, bringing a hollow feeling to fill up my chest.

I decide to wait in his room, as he'll have to return there in a few hours anyway. So I let go of the power masking me from him at the same time as I disappear, imagining his face when he looks to where I was and finds nothing. But I don't even know if he looks.

His room is dark, and I can't stop pacing. Perhaps I am impatient, but I feel like if I stand still, he will never come. So I walk back and forth across his floor, the wood creaking silently beneath my feet. Thoughts of Moira distract my attention from searching for his aura; how desperate she is, how it's so unusual for a vampire to show that she's desperate. I think of her eyes in the moonlight, of the expression in their depths, and wonder how she could love Fala. (I despise Fala. But that is merely jealousy, although I'd never admit as much aloud.) Fala is beautiful, like all of my kind, but she is harsh, sadistic…heartless. I sigh, annoyed with myself. Moira puzzles me with her oddities. But I brush her from my thoughts. Moira has always been different.

And so have I.

I sigh again, the breath unnecessary—but breathing is still a habit when I'm upset, even after all these years. I sit down on Jager's bed and immediately stand up again—the memories are so tangible they nearly scald me. I have the urge to leave; why should I wait here, anyway? I've existed for two centuries without Jager. Doesn't that say that I don't need him?

But I remember the stabbing pain in my chest when I see him with Fala, and stay in his room, pacing back and forth. At least the darkness is comforting, especially because it allows me to ignore the familiarity of this place…

"Get out of my room." The voice breaks into my thoughts like a rock through the ice on a frozen pond. I spin around, startled and smug at the same time; I'd successfully stopped myself from looking for his aura. But now he's caught me off guard.

I shake my head, my indigo eyes glinting in the light from the crack between door and wall. Don't you know who I am?

He steps towards me. "As if I could forget," he whispers. I don't understand his anger, but I'm suddenly annoyed. He makes me feel like the weak human I was years ago, no matter how much I try to ignore the feeling.

"Jager—" I start, but a gentle ripple of power rushes over me and I know he hasn't forgiven me for disappearing years ago.

I swallow, nearly choking on an onslaught of unfamiliar emotions. I've been nearly empty for a half a century, and Jager is bringing too much back, making me feel far too much alive for my own good. I want to scream at him, want to tell him that he's the one that close me off, but I don't say anything.

I don't leave, either.

We stand there, staring at each other in the darkness. Neither of us moves in the second that feel so long; neither of us says a word—and this feels too much like the last night I was in his room, the last time we argued…when we ended up loving each other…

I sigh, quickly growing tired of his games, of my memories. I sit down on his bed; he groans and turns on his lamp. Although we don't need the light to see, it feels more comfortable to see him like this.

I blink and lean back on my hands. "How's Fala?" I ask politely. He stares at me, unmoving; but his eyes soften, and I can't help but hope that the expression is a reaction to me. But a thought creeps into my mind: does he really love Fala so much that he visibly softens at her name? The idea twists my gut and I wish I hadn't asked about her at all.

"I've been hiding myself from you," I confess quietly, breaking eye contact with him. Something about being with Jager makes me so much less brazen. I even feel ashamed, as if I've done something terribly wrong.

He says nothing; I cringe. But I won't beg him to speak, no matter how awkward this is.

This isn't at all the way I'd planned; where is the seductive Elyse, the one that makes hunting so easy? The one that learned from Emmie, that attracted Jager in the first place?

I look at him, feel the burning in my chest, think of Sutton. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss you. My silent words are barely audible, even to me; I don't know if I am speaking to Jager or Sutton.

Jager answers my thought anyway, speaking for the first time since he realized I wasn't leaving. "If you missed me, then why didn't you come back?" he demands. I bite my lip, reluctant to answer. I don't want him to know about England, about my losing control. It would only prove to him that I'm weak, that he doesn't need me. Shouldn't need me.

"I did come back," I whisper. He takes a step forward as if the movement is involuntary, as if he can't help but want to know more. But I don't offer the information of my staying here with my aura hidden.

"…I know." His reserve falters, his body becoming visibly less tense. He acts as if he is giving in to an addiction when he finally walks over and sits on the bed beside me. I let out an unneeded breath, stare at him, soaking in every details about him that I can. He looks almost exactly the same as he did two hundred years ago; beautiful emerald eyes, graceful cheekbones, olive skin under the paleness that is typical of my kind. Irresistible, I think, and smile at that memory.

But there is something different about him, too: a darker shade to his aura, a harder line to his jaw. He doesn't look older--he'll never look older—but perhaps more mellow, more subdued. My smile disappears at this observation and I have to hold myself back from reaching out to touch his hand.

When I look up into his face, he is half-smiling. "You look like you've never seen me before."

"It's been a while," I reply absently, dismissing his near teasing. I shiver at the sound of his voice without anger, delighted that he seems to be over his fury. "I saw you talking with Aubrey," I try. "How is he?" I don't smirk, don't grimace, thought Aubrey and I are hardly friends.

Jager looks at me incredulously. "I know you didn't come here just to ask about the well-being of two of your least favorite of our kind."

I nod, realizing that he wants to talk about us. About what I'm doing here, in his room. On his bed.

"Jager…" I smile uncertainly, the expression strange on the face that hasn't had cause to smile in years. "Did you…miss me, at all?"