Lycan's Affection

"No, no no, Conaan, please. Please, you can't do this to me, please. I was foolish, I was wrong, and you can punish me any how you want, but not this way, please. I have just discovered the home I was meant to be, the home I had so foolishly left..."

Her voice trailed off, her tears choking down on the words. She closed her eyes, her head lowered, her fingers slightly trembling from the force of her tears.

"No, Eleanor. You didn't discover the home you were meant to be. You were forced to. You were discarded, Eleanor. I hate to think that if Alexander had a place for you...that if Alexander was as faithful a lover as you thought of him, you would not be here."

She met Conaan's eyes and the ice in them had dissolved to literal tears that stopped right at his eyes. The emotions she saw made her feel even worse, and it probably was way better if he was cold.

She swallowed, then took a step further to him, her hands reaching out towards him. He took a step backwards to avoid it, and ended up losing his balance instead, his feet wobbling as he fell to the ground on his knees.

"Conaan," Eleanor gasped as she immediately followed him to his kneeling position, her hand around his shoulder, one of which has lost the robe.

He let out slow, exhausted breaths, his body rigid under her. Slowly, he started to move away from her, but she kept her grip firm around his shoulders.

"You are weak, Conaan."

"I do not care! I cared far too much, Eleanor. I do not care what happens now. I do not care what you do, who you run to. I do not care who you let yourself belong to. I do not care if you denounce the lycans over and over again." He closed his eyes, his head lowering at the sharp pain in his abdomen. He swallowed as she slowly adjusted her position, then brought him to lean on her shoulder, his hair falling on his side.

His eyes closed as her scent filled him, and he hated just how much it still felt like the most beautiful thing he'd ever perceived.

"I won't go anywhere. I won't, I swear. I'd rather see you regret me, hate me...but I will get to be here and...and I can hope."

He didn't reply, his body weak under him, his chest slowly heaving. Her tears ran down her face in torrents as she reached out to him, her hands slowly patting his hair.

"I am sorry. Please forgive me. This is a stretch, but please give me a chance. Give me another chance. This time, I promise, I will do right by you. This one time."

He didn't reply, his eyes fluttering to a close, the strength in his body finally leaving. He had only woken by what the healer called a string of luck, and for a moment, he could have died. It had been a possibility, and when his eyes had opened, that had been more of a miracle than anything else.

Eleanor sat there, her hands going through his hair, her fingers slowly stroking his forehead. He had never looked as pale or weak, and she swallowed, tears filling her eyes again.

Conaan woke up when the sun had started to set, his room filled with the orange glow. His eyes thinned as he slowly turned away from the window. He let out a small sigh as his eyes caught the image of Eleanor. She was sitting on a stool, her head on the edge of the bed, her lashes fluttering slowly.

His eyes moved away from her, then to the bottle on the stand. He hadn't noticed it before, and he pushed himself to a sitting position, then stretched his hand to it.

Slowly, he opened the tightly closed cork, then brought it to his nose. His eyes squinted at the smell, the wheels of his head immediately going into action.

"It's poison."

He turned to Eleanor who had woken up, her eyes holding stains of tears, and the bags under it dark and visible. He wanted so much to reach out and wipe those tears off, then make her happy for as long as she stayed, but instead, he closed the bottle back, then kept it on the night stand.

"Poison?" His voice was low, and weak.

Eleanor nodded, then brought herself to sit on the bed next to him, facing him. "You are still sick, I will tell you..."

"Tell me now."

She swallowed. "It is Alexander. He made it for the lycans."

He turned to the bottle, one eye thinning considerably. "Is it the same one that was used on me?"

She bit down on her lip. "I don't know, Conaan. But I did not put it in there. I was stupid to bring you something from Alexander, I know I shouldn't have, but...I do hope you forgive me for it."

He watched her for a while, his expression neutral. His eyes swept over her once, and he slowly lifted his head to the door.

"Conaan..."

"Leave. I would like that more than anything else right now."

She felt fresh tears build up in her eyes, and slowly, she started to move away. He said nothing as her strong scent gradually became distant, till she was out the door, and the door closed behind her.

He felt a part of him go empty, his resolve weakening a little. Replace Eleanor? There was no replacing Eleanor.

If there was a woman who could, he probably would have. But he hadn't lost interest in women in general, just to replace the one woman he wanted now that she had finally come home.

He swallowed, his eyes drifting to the bottle again. It just meant Alexander was making this to go to war.

"I should have killed that bastard," he murmured, his teeth gritting hard against each other. He looked at the poison once more, then grabbed it, and slowly let himself out of the bed.

"Your highness, you are still weak. You should not..."

"Deploy a spy to Polaris immediately. Have him scent this, and he needs to find out where it is made."

Brandon immediately collected the bottle. "What should he do if he finds out?"

Conaan raised a brow as he turned to Brandon. "Burn it to the ground."