A/N: Thanks for all the reviews for the last two chapters! I know you're gonna hate me for this one, but too bad. Review anyway! Haha the happiness will come later. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I only own Elyse and Sutton. Everything else is AHAR's, and the song is "Loose Ends" by Imogen Heap.

Chapter 19:

"We're kissing without kissing

Got it down to a fine art.

Love's supposed to keep you young and frisky;

We grew up and wide apart.

Not now, not ever, no, it's never a good time.

How will the good times ever roll along?

Comparing photos then and now.

Just wondering...wondering...where it all went wrong."

Jager is looking at me, smiling vaguely while he leans back in his seat, a glass of some dark liquid on the table in front of him. I had just arrived at the nightclub, fresh from the hunt; I wipe my mouth, getting rid of any trace of human blood. "How are you?" I ask, and drop my eyes to the table in front of me, watching the red light play across the dark ebony surface.

"Fine, I suppose." His voice is velvet soft, sends shivers down my spine like it used to when I was human and had just met him. I glance up again and he's smiling at me, but Fala suddenly saunters over out of nowhere and smirks at the two of us.

"Hello, Jager," she purrs, sliding onto his lap. I'm waiting for him to push her off, but the feeling in my stomach makes me realize that isn't going to happen. He's trying not to grin at her, as if he really doesn't want her here, but his hands move around her waist to stroke her silk-clad thighs and my throat burns. I stare at my own black jeans and try not to think about crying; that will only make the ache in my chest worse.

Fala flirts outrageously with Jager, and I almost feel like puking from the anger boiling inside of me. Or is it jealousy? I push the thought aside, but when he kisses her on the lips, almost casually—right in front of me—I wish I were invisible. Wish I could leave, that I'd never come in the first place. I sink low in my chair, averting my gaze from the vampires in front of me. How could he do this while I'm sitting right across from him? After what he said to me when he found me in his room?

I stand up, purposely keeping my back to Jager and Fala, and make my way to the bar. I bare my teeth in a half-smile to the blood-bonded bartender, ask her for a drink—something strong.

Whatever she gives me had no effect on me, but it doesn't matter; I just want to get away from him, from the table, if only for a moment. Out of the corner of my eye I see that Fala is gone, that he is looking at me, and I sigh. He will want to talk now. And I am powerless against the suffocating ache in my chest; I am drawn to him.

I turn back to him, walk over slowly, but can't sit; I lean against the splintered mirror that serves as the nightclub's wall instead, smiling at the reminder of Risika's story. Any reminder of Aubrey's weakness amuses me.

Jager stands up and comes to me, opening his mouth to speak. The glass on the table that had been filled moments before has been knocked over, the dark liquid staining the tabletop and beading upon the shards of glass. Before he can utter a sound, I interrupt him, saying sweetly, "Are you sure you're not still busy? Because I can wait, if you want."

He closes his mouth, perhaps reading the hurt in my eyes; my mind is sealed firmly behind my walls, so he can't read what I'm thinking. "Damn." He blinks and gives me an embarrassed, half-smile. The starved monster growls inside of me as my heart flips over. "Can we just pretend that never happened?"

I ignore the ache and only raise an eyebrow, stare at him, feel the cold glass against my back.

"Damn," he repeats, more softly. When he speaks again, I can tell it pains him to apologize, to sacrifice his pride, and that would make me smile if I wasn't so occupied with the beast inside me that wants to grab Jager's face and kiss him. "I—I'm sorry, Elyse. I didn't mean for that to happen—" He steps closer, reaches his hand out as if to touch me, then draws back because of the expression on my face. He doesn't realize I'm fighting with myself; I want so badly to go to his arms, to forgive him…but I've already done that. And it didn't matter.

I push myself back against the glass as if I want to vanish through the millions of cracks behind my shoulders. "Jager…" I whisper.

He shakes his head, stopping me in mid-sentence. Reaches out again and strokes my jaw line, makes me shiver. I close my eyes and force myself to unclamp my jaw. Everyone makes mistakes; Jager is entitled to them. I remind myself of this as the tips of his fingers touch my skin.

"I'm sorry," he breathes. "I love you."

I nod, swallow hard, and he puts my face between his two palms—

I am alone, standing in front of the freshly finished grave, in front of the headstone that had been placed there moments before. There are too many flowers crowded around his grave, but I think the gesture is sweet; Sutton was well-loved in life, and is adored in death, too. I blink away imaginary tears and stare up at the vivid blue sky, composing myself. My black dress whips around my legs in the brisk wind; my golden hair frantically escapes its careful knot and dances in the wind, blocking my vision.

The grass around his grave is too harsh, too green, too much like the eyes of someone I knew, once. I stand there, my body tense, and let my eyes trip over the name on the headstone: Sutton Cole. I kneel down suddenly, my knees pressing into the soft grass and crushing a few of the flowers left for Sutton. Roses, lilies, petals blending with emerald blades of grass. "I'm sorry," I whisper through a throat clogged with guilt. It is hard to speak. I stroke the marble stone, run my hand across the name engraved across its front. My mind is screaming to get away, to run from the memories. I want to leave this town as soon as possible. Standing up, I turn around to leave—

I inhale sharply, my gaze focusing back onto Jager's face. I scramble to close my mind to him—he cannot see my memories—but find with relief that I had never left myself vulnerable in the first place. Leaning forward impulsively, I meet his lips without realizing what I'm doing. His mouth responds to my kiss immediately, as if he had been expecting it, and he presses my face closer to his. He deepens the kiss, his tongue finding its way between my lips; he smells wonderful, tastes wonderful…

But I shut my eyes and pull away from him; my head bumps gently against the glass behind me and I disentangle myself from Jager's arms. "I'm sorry," I breathe, moving out of the space between his body and the wall. I avoid his eyes as I speak, avoid his face entirely. "I can't." I turn around and walk out of the nightclub, and don't look back.

"It's complicated

This time, I think it could be

Triangulated

It could be just what we need.

So what you say, we give it up and walk away?

Nothing to salvage, anyway."