She wondered when she'd made the mistake of letting things go too far.

She'd turned a blind eye to Jean-Jacques's affection for her, because it hadn't been intrusive. Now she needed to pay for that foolishness. She had known what was happening, the signs had always been there, right from the moment they met. It would have been easy to discourage his growing feelings, steer him on a different path, but she had deliberately chosen not to. Because it felt good. It felt good to have someone love her.

Even if it came from Jean-Jacques's loneliness, and he only loved her because there was no one else.

He'd waited, she knew he had, he'd waited so long. Long enough that he wasn't so young she could continue to ignore his feelings. Before he'd even given up his true name his devotion had been evident, something she had rationalised as a childish crush. Now he was a man, and she wondered how time had passed so quickly, how she'd never taken the opportunity to put a stop to things in all that time. He deserved better than her.

She kissed him back.

She'd never kissed anyone. Unless the demon that had taken their names counted. Who would have wanted her? What good would she be as a partner? She was a vampire, and her body couldn't bear children besides. A woman like that couldn't hope to find a place in the world as she'd left it. Maybe things had changed outside since she created her closed world, but she doubted it. For the over two centuries she'd lived in the present, Gévaudan hadn't changed one iota, why would it now?

She wondered if Jean-Jacques had kissed anyone before, some village child he'd shared a brief attachment with. Bizarrely, she felt jealous at the thought. Either because she had never had the opportunity for such experiences herself or because there was the possibility Jean-Jacques had loved someone before her she wasn't sure. It was strange, she didn't know which was worse, the shadow being his first kiss or a long-dead villager. Of course, he had ended up with her so it didn't really matter. Trapped in her world, destined for her or no one at all.

Chloé hated how happy it made her to receive his kiss. She never should have fallen in love with him in the first place. It was wrong. On far too many levels. Worse still he loved her back. A good, kind person like Jean-Jacques deserved someone just as good and kind, the very antithesis of her. Yet she pulled him closer, well aware of the selfishness of it. In the end hadn't she let his feelings grow in the hopes that something like this would happen? She'd always been desperate for affection, of any kind, so of course she wasn't strong enough to reject it.

It wasn't fair to Jean-Jacques, none of it. His meeting her had caused him nothing but suffering, and she was only going to cause him more. When she died, when she left him behind, she wondered if he'd come to resent her. She almost hoped he would. In this moment he was hers, but when she was gone she didn't want to be a ghost still haunting him. She wanted him to find happiness without her, with someone better. Still, she was possessive, always had been, and while she had him in her grasp she wasn't about to let him go. Especially not when he'd offered himself so willingly.

"Chloé." Jean-Jacques broke away from the kiss and Chloé chased his lips instinctively, though with him standing back at full height she couldn't reach, unless she wanted to jump.

"Jean-Jacques?" She tugged at his collar lightly, indicating her desire for him to return to her.

He didn't. He just looked down, meeting her eyes through that ridiculous mop of hair. "I... I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Chloé let go of him, clutching her hands tight to her chest. She felt like the gravity in the room got exponentially stronger, suddenly weighed down by the regret in Jean-Jacques's eyes. He didn't want her.

He hung his head, shuffling nervously. "I-I shouldn't have. I know you don't see me that way and- well, you're a noblewoman, it was presumptuous and I was acting above my station. Forgive me, Chloé."

Chloé felt the tension in her body ease, replaced with surprise. She shook her head, smiling the chiding smile she had often used when teaching something to younger individuals. "Jean-Jacques, you should know by now I care little for your bloodline or where you came from. You are yourself and that is all that matters to me. It's true I am a d'Apchier, and I care deeply about maintaining my family pride, but not once was courtship part of my education. As such, I am free to choose how I like." She grabbed his hand in both of hers. "Stay with me until the last, Jean-Jacques. I love you, you are the only one I need."

"Chloé-!"

"Is that too direct a confession? I do mean it. Until the day I enact my revenge on this accursed world, I want you to stay in Gévaudan with me, and I want to love you properly."

"I want that," Jean-Jacques breathed, bending to press his forehead to hers and closing his eyes. "All I've ever wanted is to remain by your side. You're the only one in the world that can understand me."

She hummed, reaching up to brush through Jean-Jacques's hair with her fingers. The only one in the world? What a joke. She'd stolen Jean-Jacques from the world, to jealously guard for herself. Because, horribly, she loved him. The shape of that love had changed over time, but it had always been a cruel chain she had used to bind him. Somehow, despite it's cruelty, her love for him was true, if not pure.

But his love for her... It couldn't be the same kind. She simply couldn't accept such a thing. Jean-Jacques's feelings weren't insincere, they were childish. He loved her with all his heart the way anyone would with their first. And that was it; she was his first. Just his first. When she was gone he would understand how big the world was and that she was just a small part of it. Yes, his love was dependence. Her love was more. It had to be. Because she could never give him anything. She had tried, but like with everything she touched it all turned to ruin.

She moved her hands to bring his face closer. She'd always been grateful when Jean-Jacques would let her do this, the way he didn't even flinch when her hands started to card through his too-long fringe. He'd grown it as a child, to hide the eyes that would sometimes turn red without his permission. By now he had learned to control them, and he no longer needed to hide his true nature from any humans, but still he maintained his childhood hairstyle.

Chloé didn't question him on it, the reason didn't really matter. Even if he used it as a way to hide from her sometimes, that was okay. Jean-Jacques didn't really owe her anything, if anything their closeness was a privilege she felt fortunate to indulge in.

When she brushed his hair aside Jean-Jacques met her stare head on, nothing but fondness in his gaze. His comfort with her looking upon him was wonderful and a little terrifying. Try as she might she couldn't grasp the version of herself reflected in his eyes. The person he thought she was was far too brilliant.

He looked too young and innocent, distressingly so. Maybe an odd assessment coming from her, considering the state of her body, but he really was youthful in a way that she simply wasn't.

His eyes; beautiful, soft, warm and kind, were somehow still unspoiled by cynicism. They weren't sharp and cold like hers, the eyes of a jaded and callous woman. For all his years Jean-Jacques was still idealistic and naive as a boy, believing in her as strongly as he always had. Foolish. Yet that was something Chloé liked about him, his unwavering, unfounded loyalty. It was part of what made him so beautiful.

Eventually, she would free him. For now though she couldn't help but sink her hooks deeper into his skin, her greed refusing to release him even as it made his blood and pain spill over her hands.

She was going to hell anyway, another sin or two wouldn't change that outcome. Even if it was at the expense of someone she loved.