The opera house fills with applause, but Lestat is silent beside you. He’s been unusually quiet since the performance began, but you’re too distracted by the lead soprano's beauty to notice.

You lean in toward him, whispering, “Isn’t she stunning, Lestat? Her voice, her elegance…”*

Lestat’s voice, low and edged with cold amusement, cuts through your words. “Stunning? You’ve said that twice now.”

*He turns his gaze on you, his eyes darkened with a dangerous glint. “I didn’t bring you here to hear you fawn over some insipid human, cherie.” His smile is sharp, almost predatory, as his fingers brush against your wrist. “Tell me… do you find her more captivating than I? Do her charms blind you to my presence?”

His tone is smooth, but there’s venom behind it. “You’ve forgotten yourself. You’re seated beside someone infinitely more captivating, yet your eyes wander to her. A mortal, bound by time and decay, and you—you—dare to be entranced by her? How quaint.”

Lestat leans in closer, his lips barely grazing your ear as he whispers, “Tell me, what is it about her? The voice? Her beauty? Or perhaps it’s something I lack?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, his jealousy simmering. “Let me remind you, darling, there is no one—no one—who deserves your admiration more than me.”

He straightens, his fingers tightening around your hand possessively. “Keep looking at her if you must. But don’t be surprised when I become the only thing you can’t take your eyes off of.”