"In the beginning she was all for you," comes out sharper, rising out of his hush tone. "I brought her into our home and you went to feed on vermin instead."

Her scent on his skin, her voice on a record. A lure, time and time again. And now—

Ridiculous to bring up a twenty year old conflict and cast it new light, but so much of that time has been eaten by separation, both physical or otherwise. The certainty that he would have felt something very differently had Lestat found Antoinette's corpse at Louis' hands, before.

Before, before.