Lycan's Affection

Eleanor's lashes fluttered slowly, her eyelids coming to a slow opening. Her eyes moved around, trying to make sense of her environments. Everything seemed unfamiliar. She swallowed, then started to push herself to a sitting position.

"I think it is best if you stay lying. You do not have enough strength for that."

She turned to her right, and Conaan was sitting on a small stool, his robe around him, his eyes fixed on sharpening a small arrow.

The memory came back like a violent stab, and she moved away to the edge of the bed, like she needed to put more distance between to show him just how much she loathed him.

"Ae you finally going to kill me?" she asked, eyeing the arrow he was sharpening.

"I believe you would be a much easier prey while you are asleep, Eleanor." He looked up to her, his dark green eye examining her. "You were asleep for two days."

She gulped a little, then started to move again to the edge. "What did you do to me? What did you to me while I was unconscious?"

He went back to sharpening his arrow, and she leaned a little to peek. On the floor were arrows he had sharpened. Lots of them.

"You kept on sharpening arrows here?" She asked, a hint of surprise filtered into her voice.

He looked up again, then down, then back up at her eyes. "How do you feel now?"

He slowly stood before she gave an answer, then walked to the door and urged a lycan servant to bring something. She did not hear what it was, but little did she care either.

"I want to go home. That is how I feel. That is the only thing I can understand right now. Just take me home."

He raised a brow. "Home? What home?"

"With Alexander. With the wolves. I do not want to be part of the Lycans or..."

He nodded and stood up again, then collected a tray of food from the servants. He slowly came back, and this time instead of the stool, he sat on the edge of the bed, placing the tray between them.

"Eat."

"I want to go home."

He said nothing, then brought a small bowl and scooped the broth in it. He brought it to her, then lifted the spoon to her lips, his visible eye urging her with a long stare.

"I want to go home," she repeated adamantly, refusing to take the broth.

He silently pushed further, his eyes scanning her.

"I said I want to go home! I do not want your broth, I do not want to stay here, I want to go home!" She pushed the spoon and bowl away, causing the bowl to slightly hit his face, a bit of the broth splashing across his face as it made its way over his robe to the floor in a loud clatter.

His face swerved violently to the right, and Eleanor gasped, watching him as he let out a small breath. She had not intended for it to hit his face, and her heart palpitated with every second he took, his face away from her.

"Conaan..." She started to say, her eyes wide with instant regret.

He slowly brought a hand to his face as he wiped the broth away, then moved his hair back, including the long strands he always kept to hide the long jarred scar away.

"First, it was the knife...then the cup and now...the bowl?" He slowly turned to her, his eyes dark. "Am I that loathsome?"

She let out a shaky breath. "I did not mean to do that, I was...." she trailed off, as he started to laugh a little, his sharp canines exposed.

"You really...want to go home?"

She looked up, her eyes almost pleading. It seemed like a threat after what had just happened, and she could not bring herself to answer no matter how much she wanted to.

"Do you really want to go home?" He asked again, his voice a little more demanding now.

She slowly nodded, her eyes clouding. He stood up, his hair falling back over his eyes as she caught a glimpse of the scar. It brought back memories of a man she had met only once, a man she had purposely hurt to prove a point.

"Fine. Tomorrow by sunset, win a duel against me."

She looked up, her eyes wide. "A duel?"

"You are not just a pretty delta, Eleanor. That, I know all too well. If you win, I will take you home myself."

It was tempting. Going home. Seeing Alexander. It was way too tempting to not accept. But...

"What will you take from me if I happen to not win?"

He watched her, his eyes darting across both of hers. "You will grant me one wish. Anything I want."

She swallowed. It was dangerous. Just as it was tempting. One wish could ruin her.

He stepped over the sharpened arrows and the broken porcelain bowl, his eyes darkening a little.

"Will you take it, or will you not?"

She swallowed, then slowly nodded. "Tomorrow by sunset."

He gave a small smile, one that unnerved her more than it calmed her, and he turned away without a word.

"Conaan," she called just as he got to the door.

He stopped then turned to her, clasping his hand behind him.

"What do you mean by the knife? I can remember when I threw the cup, and now with the bowl...but the knife?"

He blinked slowly, his eyes becomong colder as they slowly opened again. "You will probably find out tomorrow by sunset."

With that, he walked away, leaving her sitting on the edge of the bed, her brows slightly furrowed, her mind occupied with the same question over and over again. Had she really made the right decision?