"He's taken everything from me," he whispered, squeezing my hands almost too tightly. "Marianne. Ziggy. He'll take you, too."

I tried to stammer out a generic reassurance, but he would have none of it. "Don't argue, Carrie. You don't know him. He wants. That's all he is, a creature made of want. If you thought Cyrus was bad, he is just a watered down version of his father. He'll take me back, and you with me. I can't have that happen to you."

"I'm not going anywhere." I jerked my hands from his, clenching them to fists. "You really underestimate me, don't you? I'm not property. I can't be owned or taken. Not by Cyrus, not by you, and definitely not by the Soul Eater."

I eased my defensive posture. "You said yourself we have the perfect weapon. That you're too afraid to use it. That's him. Don't you get that? Your fear of him is how he's controlling you."

"I know that." Nathan looked as though I'd slapped him, "I've known that for years. Why do you think I was alone for so long? Why do you think I had only Ziggy in my life when I met you? I know my sire controls me. He keeps me isolated. I can shut him out, Carrie, but not permanently, and not forever. Eventually, I'm going to hear him again."

"So, why not today?" I'd spoken the question without thinking about it, but I'm glad I did. I might not have said it otherwise.

For a moment, he wavered between emotional breakdown and an outburst of righteous indignation. Then his shoulders sagged and he rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in fatigue. "Fine."

"What?" I couldn't possibly have heard him correctly.

He lay back on the bed, staring at—no, through—the ceiling. "You're right. I should just get it over with. We're sunk otherwise. We don't have any other weapons available, and I'm just being cowardly."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I grabbed his wrist, snapping him back to attention. "You're not going to do it right now, are you?"

"No time like the present."

I waited, not daring to move, barely breathing, my gaze trained on his face. Would he go all screwy and possessed again? Would I have to run for my life? I mentally calculated the time it would take me to stand after kneeling so long, weighed it against my speed on legs that had fallen asleep, and realized if he did go into mindless-monster mode, I was pretty much a goner.

When his eyes snapped open not a full minute later, I jumped back and gasped.

"Christ, woman, you scared me!" He pressed a hand to his chest. "Were you just staring at me the whole time?"

"No," I lied. "Kind of. In case. You know."

He smiled. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"So, it didn't work?" It couldn't have, in that short a time, could it?