It didn't take him long to find me.

I wasn't even done with the cigarette when I heard him pull open the terrace door and sneak up behind me.

"You're not allowed to talk to your family." Dorian said.

I walked to one of the ashtrays slowly, put out the cigarette, then faced Dorian. I wanted to keep my cool, even though everything underneath my skin itched and burned. Sometimes I felt like I just needed to kick the living shit out of him. Like I wanted to put my hands around his neck and watch life leave his eyes. I stopped in front of Dorian.

"I want back on the Council, Dorian." I said, hoping he could hear the determination in my voice. "You will let me talk to my father."

Dorian held my gaze for a long moment, before brushing it off with a chuckle, "No. No, I won't."

I let out a laugh, which somehow hurt my insides more than crying would.

"So much for your truce offer." My gums began to ache.

"My offer stands."

"Bullshit." I cut in. "You must know by now that you and I can never be at truce, not when we want the same thing."

"There is more than one seat on the Council, Ette."

"Don't call me that!" I shouted. "Fuck, you think my father would consider you over Edmond or Lucien? The only reason you're on the Council is because I chose to walk away! You might be able to manipulate my sisters, but you will never manipulate my father!"

Dorian laughed, "Oh, fuck you."

"No, fuck you!" I raised my voice even higher. "Is that all my sisters are to you? A means to an end? Is that what Elena was to you?"

I've never seen his facade drop as quickly as it did now, "I loved Elena."

"Oh, bullshit!" My temples throbbed, my heart pounded. "If you had loved her, you wouldn't have kissed me!"

Dorian's shoulders slumped. Something childish appeared behind the cruel blue in his eyes. The rawness of his gaze took me aback, and I had only a moment to accommodate to the fact we were now talking about this. We were opening that can of worms.

"So, that's the issue." Dorian stated, his face expressionless. "We're talking about it."

"Yes!" I yelled, wanting the entire New York City to hear my words. "If you had told her you weren't in love with her, she would still be alive."

"I couldn't have known." Dorian shook his head. "I-"

"You should have been a man!"

"I wasn't a man!" Dorian shouted, his voice cracking. "I was seventeen! She was my best friend, Odette. I didn't want to hurt her."

"Well, you hurt her." My lower lips trembled, and tears came to my eyes uninvited. "We hurt her."

"That's right. We hurt her." Dorian repeated, anger and sadness in his eyes twisting into something bitter. "But you punished me."

Tears slid down my cheeks. Helplessness and hatred intertwined in my stomach. The desperation I've felt upon finding out Elena was dead returned with a vengeance, but instead of running into anger, it ran into something sticky and dull. Guilt.

We should have locked the door. He should have locked the door. My sister's expression flashed in my mind, the look on her face when she opened the door and caught us on the bed.

"We both did it." Dorian said. "But you blamed me."

"Of course!" The present moment pulled me back in itself. "Of course, I blame you!"

"You kissed me!" Dorian pushed. "You came to my room, sat on my bed, and kissed me."

The truth spiked my tongue, and I felt as if I've been pretending for too long. He knew anyway, if he had bothered to remember anything I've said that night.

"Yes, except-"

"What?" Dorian sighed.

I looked around, my heart thumping uncontrollably. My memories brought me back to that night, and despite everything that's happened since, I felt the same queasiness in my stomach. I crossed my hands on my chest and took a deep breath.

"My sister is dead because you wanted to get laid." I spoke. "Which you could have done with... anyone, but I was the lucky girl that night. And now Elena's dead, because she loved you, and you wanted to get laid."

Dorian's frown disappeared, and all the anger and sadness was suddenly replaced by understanding. His face turned from childish to mature in an instant, and I felt exposed, and naked, and transparent.

"And what did you want?" Dorian whispered.

"You know what I wanted." I let out a small laugh, despite the pain seizing the entirety of my chest cavity.

Dorian took a few steps, and stopped right in front of me. I stared at his golden bowtie, unable to look up into his eyes.

"Is that what you believe?" He asked.

My heart hammered.

"That she was just a means to an end to me?"

Maybe I still wanted to punish him. For Elena. For that night. For everything that's happened after that. And the question he's left unanswered.

Tears burned in my eyes, "Yes."

Dorian grabbed my wrists, and I moved away startled, but he held me in place. Unable to predict what would happen next, my mind and my heart went haywire. I looked up, searching for the explanation in his eyes, but there was nothing clear inside, nothing but murky, dark chaos. Dorian lifted both of my hands and put them around his neck, one by one. My muscles tensed, needing to pull away.

His skin was both hot and cold, and I felt his heart beat underneath. The strands of his hair tickled my fingers on the nape of his neck.

He cleared his throat, and I felt the rumbling under the tips of my thumbs.

"If you truly believe I was manipulating Elena, or that I didn't love her, kill me."

Surprise reverberated through me, and his skin began to burn me.

"I won't hold it against you." His voice cracked, and something raw and undiluted took his irises hostage, "I won't fight back."

Anger coursed through me. Desperation. Guilt. The inability to go back in time and change that night. I squeezed his neck, my fingers digging into his skin. An animalistic grunt left my lips and tears slid down my cheeks. Dorian's gaze bore into me. I wanted to hurt him like he'd hurt me. I wanted him to feel what I felt.

I cried out, forcing my hands to squeeze harder, but they wouldn't listen.

But he had already been hurt just as badly as me. And he already felt what I was feeling. He lost her too. He loved her too. And the blame I was projecting onto him was actually aimed at me.

"Fuck!" I shouted, my hands dropping from his neck. "Fuck. You!"

Overwhelmed, I stepped away from him, pain filling my lungs and my soul, blocking my airways, making me gasp for air, like I had been the one being strangled moments ago. Dorian just stood there, breathing deeply, swallowing hard, as if trying to push something down.

"This ball is over." He said eventually.

"This truce is over." I answered. "If you hadn't noticed."

"Yes, it was nice being friends for a few hours." Dorian's chuckle was brittle.

"You and I can never be friends." I faced NYC and the dizziness of the view, only to avoid looking into his eyes. "That ship has sailed."

He said nothing, and I stared down the building, pretending to find solace in the bustling traffic. The knife that had been taken out of my back has slid right back into its place, heaviness has sat on my lungs, and something felt irrevocably broken. Dorian's footsteps echoed around me, and my eyes snapped towards his back.

Suddenly, I was back there again, back in that room sitting on his bed, the dim lighting just right, and my heart beating so loudly I've forgotten about the champagne messing with my head.

I will try to fall in love with her. I'm supposed to marry her.

Dorian stopped.

"Come on." He called. "I'll drive you home."

Like a ghost, half there and half somewhere else, I followed him.

Don't marry her. Marry me.