Author's Note: Just a warning that this chapter earns the M-rating more than any of the last. If you don't prefer to read any sort of M-rated material, I'd suggest you skip the rest of the chapter after the second line break.

There wasn't much to Kynesgrove. Aside from the mine, the only other establishment was a single building—more of a two-story house, really—that rested against the curve of the mountain. From the large post in front of the building, a wooden sign swung back and forth in the breeze, and Lisara assumed that the house must be an inn. Delphine was standing beside a brunette woman on the front porch, and from the tense expression on the blonde Breton's face, things must not have been what she'd expected to find.

When Lisara and Vilkas approached, Delphine looked over at them, her expression unchanged. She mumbled something to the other woman before descending to stand in front of Vilkas's horse. "About time you two arrived. Something isn't right."

"What do you mean?" Vilkas demanded, his voice gruff.

Before Delphine had a chance to respond, a guttural roar reverberated through the plains, shaking the ground beneath them. It was louder than any other dragon they'd heard thus far, and in reflex, Lisara gripped the reins tightly in her hands. Shadowmere shuffled anxiously in place, and she patted the side of his neck in an attempt to reassure him as she glanced up at the sky. A massive, ebony-scaled dragon flew overhead, blotting out the sun completely with its abnormally wide wingspan. Once it had passed over Kynesgrove, it circled in the air before landing a mile or so away. Even from beside the inn, they felt the tremor that radiated outwards from where it made contact with the ground.

Delphine rushed over to her mount and untied its reins, quickly clambering into her saddle. Urgently, she pointed in the direction of the dragon, and shouted, "Hurry! Before we're too late!"

The trio sped off towards the landing site, and when they approached it, Lisara narrowed her eyes. There was something about this dragon that seemed different; its presence was more demanding, more...powerful. Vilkas must've sensed it as well—likely more than she could—because he spurred his mount on, edging in front of Lisara.

Before they could reach the ebony dragon, it shouted something in the direction of the mound. The force of its roar rippled through the ground beneath them again. Shortly afterwards, it lifted off into the air, and the gust from its wings blew past them like a ferocious gale. Lisara threw her arm up in front of her face and tucked her chin under, trying to lessen the bite from the wind. Its gravelly, deep voice resounded around them, but Lisara couldn't understand a word, and she figured that it must've been speaking in the dragon tongue. When she looked up again, the dragon was flying off into the distance—it didn't appear to have seen them. Either that, or it didn't care.

They came to a halt beside two corpses and after dismounting, Delphine hurried over to inspect them. After checking their pulses, she stood with a grim expression on her face. "Stormcloak soldiers. Dead."

Lisara scanned the area around them. There was nothing in particular that stood out, besides the mound in front of them. "What were they even doing here?"

"Likely thinking they could take on a dragon by themselves, the idiots. That's what I meant by something being wrong in Kynesgrove: there were no soldiers on watch, and everyone was inside their homes already. The dragon must've circled over the town earlier."

Vilkas looked past Delphine at the mound. It was encircled by stone steps, and looked far too finished to simply be a pile of dirt. "So what was that dragon doing with that?"

Delphine glanced over her shoulder, and explained, "I don't know, that's why I wanted to get over here. It's a burial mound, but I don't see what—"

She never had a chance to finish her sentence. The ground rumbled again, though this time there were no dragons flying overhead that would've caused the tremors. Lisara and Vilkas glanced at each other in concern, and he drew his greatsword from his back, his pale eyes wary as he looked around. After unsheathing her daggers, she crouched and inched closer to him, mirroring his motions.

Suddenly, the mound exploded, showering dirt and snow all around them. Delphine whirled around and drew her own blade, stumbling backwards in surprise when she saw a wing unfurl from underneath the soil. "A dragon?" she exclaimed.

"Good. I'm sick of standing around and waiting," Vilkas mumbled.

Lisara rolled her eyes at him. "I think you're the only one who can say that while a dragon is staring them in the face."

By now, the newly emerged dragon had clambered out of its burial mound and was draped over the side of the steps like a cat after its prey. Its shrewd, massive eyes swiveled around and spotted the three of them with their weapons drawn. This dragon was more similar to the previous ones Lisara and Vilkas had defeated. Its scales were lighter than the onyx scales of the dragon that had just flown away—more grey-toned than a true black. Still, it was impossible to tell just how much of a threat it was by sight alone.

It opened its mouth and, in a voice as grating as two stones rubbing together, spoke in the same language as the black dragon. With a great flap of its wings, it then took off into the air and circled above them, biding its time—though for what, Lisara had no idea. Vilkas faced her, his eyebrows drawn tight over his eyes. "I'm not going to sit here and wait for it to attack us. Lisara, can you hit it with an arrow from here?"

A quick glance upwards told her she might be able to arc the arrow enough to nick the dragon in the side. It wouldn't hurt it, but it would likely get its attention and anger it. Good thing they had the Dragonborn here, then.

She nodded at Vilkas before running over to Shadowmere. Quickly, she unhooked her bow and quiver from the strap on his saddle. When she was nearly finished nocking her arrow, the dragon dove towards them, and she barely had time to roll out of the way. Shadowmere and the other two horses darted off to safety, and when she came out of her roll, she quickly shot an arrow at the dragon. Since it was lower, her arrow actually managed to hit deeper than she'd anticipated. It howled and plummeted to the ground, snapping its jaws in anger.

Now that it was grounded, she slung her bow across her back and opted for her daggers. Vilkas came barrelling out of her peripheral, striking the dragon in the side with his massive blade. It turned its head and snapped at him with its colossal jaws, baring teeth that looked nearly as long as her arms, and as wide as she was. She held her breath in terror when they came within inches of his body. When he hopped backwards and safely out of its reach, she let out the air in a long exhale filled with relief.

Though they were more than capable of killing a dragon with just the two of them, Delphine's presence made the job extremely quick work. On the opposite side of the beast, she stabbed its wing with her sword, and it let out a pained roar. With one of its wings out of commission, it could no longer fly, and that gave them the advantage.

As if the dragon sensed the shift in the battle's dynamics, it planted its limbs into the dirt and swept its head from side to side. A blast of frigid air, filled with shards of ice, flew in their direction and Vilkas shoved Lisara aside to take the brunt of the squall. She cried out in surprise before tumbling across the ground, banging her elbows on nearly every rock in existence. Once she skidded to a stop—completely tangled in the underbrush—she scrambled to her feet, desperate to see if he was all right.

To her surprise, he was still in the fray, slicing at the dragon's hide with his sword. A ferocious battle cry left him and echoed across the plains—even Delphine glanced over at him, taken aback by the sheer volume of his voice. He must've been gearing up to shout, because shortly after, he hit the dragon with Unrelenting Force. The dragon evidently hadn't been expecting that, and it staggered back, allowing Vilkas and Delphine a clear shot.

He dove towards the dragon's neck, swinging his sword upwards. The sharpened edge of his blade sliced across the dragon's throat, and its blood burst forth in a crimson tide. Delphine jumped up to deal the finishing blow—a stab straight into the dragon's chest—and it let out one final, deafening roar, before its head crashed to the ground.

They stood there with their chests heaving, and Lisara stepped up beside Vilkas. He was covered in dragon blood, and it made his eyes stand out even more than his war paint. They were frantic, manic even, and appeared even paler in color than before. They were normally ice blue, but at the moment, they appeared almost silver. It was unnerving, but no less beautiful. The memory of their first dragon kill flashed through her mind then, and she realized that his eyes looked the same every time they'd felled a beast.

As Delphine continued to stare at the dragon's lifeless form, in an amazed tone of voice, she said, "We did it. You—Wait, what's happening?"

Vilkas and Lisara had already seen firsthand what happened when a dragon died, but this was apparently Delphine's first time. The dragon's body had begun to incinerate, and dried flakes of its hide floated into the air as a soft glow emanated from within it. Gradually, the glow became brighter, and as it spread, the dragon's body burned away even more. Within seconds, only its bones remained. A deep boom echoed around them, and the now-familiar golden tendrils of power swirled through the air, enveloping Vilkas completely.

Once the luminosity faded, he took a deep breath. Lisara laid a hand on his forearm, glancing up at him in concern. When he nodded once at her, she returned the gesture and moved towards the dragon's skeleton. As per their routine, she checked it over for salvageable bones and scales. Unfortunately, he only had one or two bones worth saving, and no scales. She pocketed her few findings and returned to Vilkas' side once she'd cinched up her pack.

Back to lugging these things around again, she thought, annoyed at his penchant for collecting every little thing.

Delphine was staring at Vilkas, looking both incredibly confused and entirely in awe of his abilities. A few seconds passed, before she began with, "Well. I owe you some answers then, don't I?"

"Indeed, you do," Vilkas replied, crossing his arms over his chest—albeit with some difficulty due to his armor.

"All right. Go ahead; ask anything you want."

Vilkas glanced down at Lisara, who shrugged in response. This was his conversation to have, not hers. After all, he was the Dragonborn. Delphine was offering him answers that he desperately needed at this point, and she didn't want to steal the conversation in favor of her own curiosity. The answers wouldn't do nearly as much for her as they would for him.

"First things first: why do you think the dragons are coming back?" he questioned.

Delphine immediately shook her head. "I'm as much in the dark about that as you are. I was just as surprised to see that big black dragon here."

He furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly deep in thought. "When it spoke to the dragon we killed...it said some pretty odd things."

At that, Lisara piped up. "Wait, you understood it?"

"Yes. Didn't you?" Vilkas asked.

Lisara glanced over at Delphine, who shook her head again in denial. She looked back up at Vilkas. "No, neither of us did. It was speaking in the dragon tongue."

Delphine gestured to Vilkas, and added, "Which apparently you can understand. Makes sense, since you're the Dragonborn."

He grunted, sounding irritated. Lisara assumed it was because Delphine believed that he was the Dragonborn now, having dragged them across the region and requiring proof. In a low voice, he explained, "After the dragon emerged from its grave, it said a few things before we fought. It said something that sounded like a name, and then something about it being time to restore someone's dominion?"

"A name? What name?" Delphine demanded.

"Alduin?"

"It's not ringing a bell. We'll have to look into it further and see who or what is behind all of this starting. Maybe it's this Alduin."

Switching topics, Vilkas then asked, "So who exactly are you?"

Delphine straightened, looking Vilkas directly in the eye. In a proud, strong voice, she stated, "I am one of the last remaining members of the Blades. It's been some time since our numbers were many, but we were dragonslayers. We served the Dragonborn, the greatest dragonslayer of us all.

"The last Dragonborn emperor, Tiber Septim, ruled nearly two-hundred years ago. Since then, the Blades have been trying to find a purpose. Now, with the return of the dragons, it seems we have one."

Vilkas remained silent, taking in all of this new information. Lisara shifted in place, glancing from Delphine back to Vilkas, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Since she started traveling with him, she'd become accustomed to the nuances in his features that would occur whenever he experienced an emotion. It was now odd to her to see him so cool and composed. The brief thought that he'd make a good politician flitted through her mind, before she then remembered that he'd likely have no patience for the job.

Finally, he asked, "So, what's next?"

Delphine shrugged. "Like I said before, we need to find out who's behind the dragon's reappearance. I'm guessing it's the Thalmor, but if I'm wrong, they'll likely know who is actually behind this."

"Why do you think that?" Lisara asked.

She faced Lisara before explaining, "Well, when Ulfric was captured, the war was basically over. Then, a dragon happens to attack, and he goes free. Suddenly, the war is back on. Now, there are dragons everywhere, and Skyrim is weakened because of their prolonged attacks. As a result, the Empire is weakened. Who else could possibly gain from all that but the Thalmor?"

"Makes sense," Lisara muttered under her breath.

Vilkas nodded in agreement. "How exactly do you propose we find out what the Thalmor knows about the dragons, then?"

"If we could get into the Thalmor Embassy, we could poke around and see if we can find anything that might be incriminating. Problem is, security there is tighter than a miser's purse. I'll have to see what I can do as far as forming as a plan. Meet me back in Riverwood in a couple of days. If I'm not back by then, wait for me at the inn. I shouldn't be long."

With that, she strolled away from them and whistled for her horse. Her shrill call caught the attention of Shadowmere and Vilkas' mount as well, and all three of them came traipsing out of a nearby grove of trees. Once they reached them, Delphine hopped onto hers and with one final parting wave, she rode off into the distance.

Once she was gone, Vilkas faced Lisara and jerked his head towards their mounts. "I'm glad she gave us a couple of days; we've things to take care of. First things first, let's head back to High Hrothgar and give the Greybeards back the Horn."

"Sounds like a plan to me. Lead the way."

Quickly, they climbed atop their mounts and faced west. With no other delays holding them back, they were off, and riding back for the Throat of the World.

They rode at a much more leisurely pace on the return trip, and by the time they'd completely ascended the towering mountain, night had fallen—though it was by no means dark. The bright, waxen light of the full moon lit up the entire valley, and made the snow appear to glow. After securing their mounts, they made their way up the stairs and into the warm halls of High Hrothgar.

Vilkas walked just slightly ahead of Lisara, and after he peeled off his leather riding gloves, he faced her. "Are you hungry?"

She hadn't been, but at the mention of food, her stomach rumbled loudly. "Uh, I guess I am. I could definitely eat, now that you mention it."

"Good, I'm starving. I'll go find Master Arngeir, and then we can meet in the dining hall in a quarter hour?"

Nodding to signify her assent, she veered left at the intersection—towards the rooms they stayed in the last time—while Vilkas went straight. Once she reached her room, she ambled inside and laid her pack beside the door, stripping out of her armor for the night. As she unbuckled her breastplate and lifted it over her head, she wrinkled her nose in disgust at the rancid scent of dried blood, mixed with the smell of multiple nights spent outdoors.

The same water basin she'd used last time was still in the far corner, but by now, she assumed that the water was likely frozen—it was certainly cold enough up here. Feeling lazy, she channeled a firebolt spell and directed it at the water in the bowl, curling her fingers to lessen the intensity rather than flinging it from her hand. Soon enough, the water was bubbling, and she gave it a minute or so to cool down before she dunked her armor into the bowl. Within a few minutes, her entire set of armor was no longer caked with dirt. Instead, the ebony panels glistened in the candlelight, and the deep crimson accents blazed with new life.

She threw it over the end of the wooden bed frame before rustling around in her pack for more casual clothing. A khaki linen tunic and fleece-lined black tights would have to do for now, and she cinched her weapons belt around her waist to prevent the tunic from flowing too freely. The Greybeards had never stated outright that they banned weapons inside their halls, and it made Lisara feel safer having her trusted, familiar weapons nearby. After re-braiding her hair, she left her room and made her way back down to the dining hall.

Unlike the last time, the dining hall wasn't set up for a grand meal. In fact, there was no one in the dining hall at all. No serving staff, no Greybeards, and most definitely not Vilkas. The massive fire that had burned in the center of the room before was currently unlit, and a chill permeated the air that caused Lisara to shiver.

Figuring she'd arrived slightly early, she traipsed over to the logs in the enormous hearth. Laziness seemed to be the theme of the night, and instead of manually lighting a fire, she simply threw a few firebolt spells at the wood. A few seconds later, she was warming her hands next to the inferno. She tucked her legs under a nearby table, and let out a sigh; the heat from the fire was comforting, and after a long day, it was making her feel a bit drowsy. It couldn't hurt to close her eyes for a few minutes until Vilkas arrived, could it?

Before she'd realized it, her eyes had slid shut and she was fast asleep.

When Lisara next woke, the fire she'd started in the hearth was nearly burned out; the air in the room was gradually becoming cooler. With stiff joints, she sat up and stretched her arms above her head, trying to lessen the ache in her limbs. Languidly, she clambered out from under the table and looked around the room, surprised to find that she was still alone. How long had she been asleep? And why hadn't Vilkas come to find her yet?

Figuring that the fire would die on its own, she left the dining hall and headed back for the main corridor. She saw that it was also empty, and many of the wall sconces had been dimmed, offering muted illumination.

It must be later than I thought it was. Where is Vilkas?

The first thing she decided to do was check with the Greybeards. After all, Vilkas had mentioned that he'd wanted to return the Horn to Master Arngeir first. Perhaps they'd started discussing something about his role as the Dragonborn, and he'd lost track of the time?

She made her way down the center hall, heading for Master Arngeir's chamber. She felt a bit intrusive, interrupting him so late at night, but he'd mentioned in passing that if they ever needed anything, to not hesitate to ask. Once she stood just in front of his door, she knocked softly, hoping that she wouldn't wake any of the other Greybeards.

A few seconds later, the door cracked open and Master Arngeir leaned out. "Oh, Lisara. What is it, my dear?"

Lisara inclined her head in a respectful bow. "I'm sorry to bother you so late at night, Master Arngeir. Is Vilkas still with you?"

"Vilkas? No, he left quite some time ago. Perhaps an hour or so?"

"Oh...I see." An hour? Why didn't he come to the dining hall, then?

"He mentioned that he was returning to his room. We spoke a bit about various things, and he left shortly after admitting that he felt ill," Master Arngeir explained.

Concerned, she bowed and thanked Master Angeir, before heading back to hers and Vilkas' rooms. When she stood in front of Vilkas' door, she rapped her knuckles lightly against the metal. There was no response, and she couldn't hear any sound coming from inside. Even after a few seconds had passed, there was still no response.

"Vilkas?" she called out, albeit in a hushed tone.

Still nothing.

Her concern grew, and she cinched her eyebrows together before slowly pushing the door open and slinking her way into the room. It was dimly lit; the only source of light was coming from the candle on the nightstand. For most people, the room would likely have been too dark to see anything. But Lisara had spent the past six years living in darkness, and could see perfectly fine.

Vilkas' bed was empty, and when she continued to scan the room, she finally spotted him standing in front of his washbasin. The candlelight reflected off of the water droplets that dripped down his exposed back, and his muscular arms were braced on either side of the tall table. His shoulders were tense, the muscles drawn tightly together, and he didn't seem to have noticed her entrance.

"Vilkas? Are you all right?" she quietly asked—so that she wouldn't catch him off guard—and paused just beside his bed.

He looked at her over his shoulder, though the rest of his body remained still. In a low voice, he asked, "What are you doing in here?"

She cringed at the gruff, unwelcoming tone of his voice. "I was worried when you didn't show up for dinner. Master Arngeir mentioned that you'd felt ill earlier, and I just wanted to know if you were okay…" She trailed off, now thinking that it might have been a bad idea to simply barge into his room.

Slowly, he turned and stared into his water basin again. Nearly a minute passed by and when he still hadn't said anything else, Lisara took a step towards him. "Vilkas?"

With a huff, he whirled around and darted forward, capturing her arms in his tight, almost painful grip. His skin was uncomfortably warm, and she wriggled in his grasp, trying to get away from the searing heat radiating from his palms. She leaned back to ask him what his problem was, but fell silent when she saw the light sheen of sweat on his face. Master Arngeir had been right—Vilkas did not look well.

Before she had a chance to reiterate her question, he pushed her and she fell back onto his bed. A brief flash of fear shot through her at his uncharacteristically rough behavior, and the terse, dark look on his face didn't help either. He stepped forward, and she mumbled, "Vilkas, I don't know what's wrong with you, but you need to see a healer. You don't look well."

He responded with a heavy scoff. "I am far from well, but no healer can aid me."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She felt even more confused than she had earlier, thanks to his vague wording. Vilkas took another step forward, and she lifted her legs onto the bed before scrambling back against the wall.

She held out her hands, imploring him to stop. "Vilkas, please…"

Somehow, that had worked. He paused in his advances and tilted his head at her, before asking, "Are you afraid of me, Lisara?"

"No, I'm just confused at the way you're acting. This isn't you, and I don't know what's causing it, but—"

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you." He leaned back and brushed the long strands of his hair out of his face. His movements were jerky, and uncoordinated—so unlike the Vilkas she knew.

Now that he stood directly in front of the light, she noticed that the perspiration on his face wasn't just there; his entire body was glistening with sweat. She found that odd, considering High Hrothgar was at the very tip of the mountain. It was colder at the summit than it was at the base, so why was he so hot? Was he running a fever of some sort?

He took a step closer, and her gaze shot up to his. When she saw his eyes, she sucked in a sharp breath. Normally, his irises were a pale shade of blue, but they were nearly silver again, and the flickering candlelight reflected back to her as if she were looking straight into a mirror. It definitely wasn't the first time she'd noticed the change, and she wondered what caused it.

Bracing himself on the edge of the bed, he crawled towards her. The featherlight touch of his fingers on her ankle elicited goosebumps along her skin, and she let out a shaky breath at the almost ticklish sensation. He traced his hand up along her calf, and when he lightly stroked the back of her knee, she couldn't hold back the quiet moan that escaped her.

Filled with both confusion and desire, Lisara weakly tried to appeal to Vilkas again. "Don't you think you should rest, Vilkas? I mean, I'm not saying this is a bad idea, but you seem ill and—"

Just like before, when she'd tried to talk to him about his condition, he cut her off. "I can rest afterwards."

"I—Yes, you could most definitely rest afterwards," she rambled, a bit overwhelmed at his forwardness. His fingers ghosted farther up her leg, and when he tried to move them closer to the inner part of her thigh, she sucked in a breath and froze. She didn't know why she froze, because she couldn't deny that she wanted this, but it was all so unexpected that she wasn't entirely sure how to react.

As if he sensed her hesitancy, he removed his hand. "You can't tell me that you don't desire me."

Embarrassed, Lisara averted her gaze and stared at the dark fabric of her tights instead. "I...I've never explicitly said that I do."

"You didn't have to," he murmured. "I knew that first night that you desired me from the moment I opened my eyes and found you in my bed."

What is going on with him? Vilkas would never say that outright—though it's not a lie...

Indignantly, she met his gaze again and tilted her chin up at him. "You've no proof of that. Being in your bed had nothing to do with desire. It was the easiest way to do my job. People are in their most vulnerable state when they're sleeping; they're unguarded. Again, nothing to do with desire."

The corner of his mouth curled upwards in a smirk. "Fine, I'll give you that one. But you cannot deny it here and now."

"I...You've no proof of that, either," she repeated.

A low, seductive chuckle left him, and he leaned over, bringing their faces only inches apart. "Oh, but I do," he murmured, before closing his eyes and taking a long, deep breath.

When he opened them again, his eyes were so bright, they looked like they were glowing. Lisara wasn't sure what to make of that, considering the candle was starting to die. There was even less light in the room now than there had been when she'd walked in. How could his eyes possibly appear brighter?

"Your scent doesn't lie, Lisara," Vilkas whispered against her ear.

Scent? What?

She trembled at the feel of his breath ghosting across her skin, though now it was more from desire than fear. Though she had no doubts about where the night could lead, she needed to know why he was acting this way all of a sudden. She wasn't blind or naive; clearly, they were attracted to each other. He'd been right about the fact that the undercurrent of sexual tension between them had been building since that first night in his room, but she never thought it would manifest so soon—or here, of all places. What had pushed him over the edge tonight?

To her surprise, Vilkas nipped at her earlobe, and the heady rush of desire shot straight to her lower abdomen. Frantically, she faced him, and her lips brushed against his cheek, he was so close. "Vilkas, I—Why are you doing this? Why here, why now? Why me?"

"So many questions," he replied, sounding a bit irritated. He pulled back a bit and looked her in the eye. "I can't answer them, Lisara. I'm sorry. Perhaps some day in the future, but...not now."

At that, irritation welled up inside of her. "I'm just supposed to accept your advances and not question the reasons that led to this?"

"For now, yes."

She crinkled the side of her nose in displeasure, and he chuckled again. When she opened her mouth to argue with him, he pressed his lips against the side of her neck. Whatever words she'd planned on saying flew out the window, and she closed her mouth with a snap. Gradually, he made his way farther up, planting kisses along her jaw until he reached her lips. After a brief moment of eye contact that stole Lisara's breath, he gently pressed his lips against hers.

The slow burn of desire in her lower belly ignited into a flame that she feared she could not control. With a soft moan, she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, crushing her lips to his. He responded in kind, and within seconds, he had her laying on her back as he straddled her hips.

Their kiss intensified, matching the tension between them. When his tongue slid against the length of her own, she moaned into his mouth, tightening her fingers in his hair. Her reward was a groan from him, and he encircled her waist with his arm, pulling her hips flush with his. The prominent evidence of his arousal pressed into her thigh, and she sucked in a breath in anticipation. Her breathlessness seemed to set Vilkas off even more, and he brushed her hair away from her neck, suckling on the soft skin.

The fact that he was giving her so much pleasure by kissing her neck, which was her preferred location of delivering the killing blow, was not lost on her. It was an odd comparison, and she wondered why she was thinking about that now, of all moments. Perhaps it was because that's where she'd intended on taking his life?

Along the lines of that thought, when Vilkas pulled away, she reached up and traced her fingertips over the bump in his neck. Slowly, she moved her hands to the back of his head and tangled them in his hair. She met his gaze, and a surge of warmth flooded through her when she noticed that his eyes were as heavy-lidded as her own, Clearly, she affected him just as much as he affected her.

When he nudged her legs apart and she wrapped them around his waist, she brushed against his erection, causing him to suck in a sharp breath. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from her, and she placed her hand against his cheek.

"Vilkas?" Lisara whispered, worried that she'd somehow ruined the moment.

He didn't answer right away, and instead, took a few deep breaths through his nose. Finally, when he looked back at her and opened his eyes, she noticed that his irises were even more luminescent than before. She furrowed her eyebrows in concern, and this time, she placed both of her hands on his face.

"Vilkas...what is going on with you?"

From between clenched teeth, he said, "Nothing. Will you stop asking me that? I'm fine."

"You are very obviously not 'fine'. Are you still feeling ill? We can stop if—"

"Lisara, stop talking."

Her mouth dropped open at his tone, and he took the opportunity to sweep his tongue into her mouth, catching her off guard. For a moment, she tried to refute his ministrations, but the throbbing ache in her core resumed, and she knew it was a lost cause. He was far moodier than usual—than she'd ever seen him, really—and she wanted to know why, but clearly he wasn't planning on talking about it tonight.

Without warning, he pulled them up into a sitting position, and Lisara gasped at the sudden movement. His hands glided under her linen tunic, and his fingertips traced along her sides. The feel of his calloused, rough hands against her skin caused her to shiver, and he knowingly raised an eyebrow at her.

In response, she shot him a heated glare, and he chuckled before undoing her weapons belt and laying it on the ground. His gaze was unwavering as he slowly slid her shirt up and over her head, and for the first time, she was bare before him.

After holding her gaze for a few seconds, his eyes moved down and roved over her body before coming to a stop on her now uncovered breasts. His unmitigated attention caused a wave of uncertainty and uncharacteristic shyness to sweep over her, and she moved to cover her chest with her arms. Gently, he grabbed her wrists and kept her from doing so, raising his eyes to look at her once again.

When he saw the doubtful expression on her face, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. "You shouldn't ever feel like you need to cover up something so beautiful," he murmured.

Tears pricked in her eyes at his surprisingly romantic sentiment, and a small smiled teased at the corners of her lips. He responded in kind before lowering her in his arms, planting his hands against her back to support her weight. Before she could comprehend what was happening, he clamped his mouth around one of her nipples and swirled his tongue around it. A sharp cry escaped her, and she fisted her hands in his hair again as she threw her head back.

He continued his assault on her breasts, moving from one nipple to the other until she was nearly overwhelmed with pleasure. Eventually, he lowered her onto the bed completely, and she practically purred as she slid farther up the soft strands against her back. Reaching up, she played with the hem of his shirt for a second before sliding her hands underneath, and lightly running her hands along his hard stomach. Acquiescing to her unspoken request, he tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside.

She imagined that what she experienced at the sight of him sitting before her, bare, and vulnerable, was exactly what he'd felt when he'd taken her shirt off. Breathless, she traced her fingers along the defined lines of his muscles, before wrapping her hands around his wide torso. With a coy smile, she pulled against him a bit and he fell forward, supporting his weight on his hands.

Their frantic pace from earlier had faded, and now that they were both naked from the waist up, the mood had changed. Instead of rushing to answer to the call of nature, now it felt as if they should take their time, memorize what the other person looked like underneath all of the layers—both physical and mental. Tentatively, she craned her neck upwards and pressed her lips against his. She felt more than heard his answering groan, and when he slid his tongue into her mouth again, she wrapped her arms around him, trying to pull him closer.

Without breaking away, he shifted his weight onto his arm and moved his hands down to her tights. In a single smooth motion, he pulled them down and off. A cold draft hit her exposed skin, and the realization that she was completely naked before him hit her. Instead of making her shy, as the removal of her shirt had done earlier, the pool of desire in her core heated and she let out a shaky breath.

As if sensing how she felt, Vilkas' eyebrows cinched together, and with rough movements, he pulled off his own pants. When she felt the searing heat of his erection brush against her inner thigh, she reflexively tightened her grip on him, and her fingers dug deeply into his skin. Worried that she'd hurt him, she glanced up into his eyes and was surprised to find that his eyes were shut again. He was squeezing them so hard, the crease in between his eyebrows was a deep groove.

Lisara reached up and ran her finger along the visible tension in his expression, and his eyes snapped open. The sight of his glowing irises stole her breath, and before she could say anything, he crushed his lips against hers and lifted her hips, aligning her core with the tip of his cock.

The feel of him brushing against her slick entrance caused a wave of lightheadedness to wash over her, and she gripped his biceps. "Vilkas...please…"

Underneath her fingers, his muscles were incredibly tense. His entire form was rigid; every single muscle in his body was flexed, strained. It felt like he was holding himself back, worrying about hurting her. When he still hadn't moved a few seconds later, she let out a frustrated groan. She wasn't a porcelain doll; she didn't need to be handled softly. How many times did she need to tell him that?

She tilted her hips, trying to draw him into her depths. When the head of his manhood slid into her, she let out a heady moan, hoping that he would take the hint that she did want this—she did want him.

What happened instead took her completely by surprise.

Vilkas let out a guttural roar and leapt off of the bed, grabbing his clothes from the floor and sprinting across the length of the room. Disoriented at the sudden loss of his presence, Lisara shot up in bed and stared after him, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Vilkas? What—"

Hastily, he pulled his clothes on, and she noticed his erection straining his trousers. Without meeting her gaze, he hurriedly said, "I'm sorry, Lisara. I have to go. I can't do this—not this way."

He already had his hand around the door handle when she fell out of bed, trying to make her way over to him. "Not what way? I want this, Vilkas, I—"

"I can't. For Talos' sake, I—I have to go." He pulled the door open so hard, it banged against the rock wall behind it, causing everything on the table nearby to rattle.

Before she was even halfway across the room, he was already out the door and gone from her sight. Lisara was left standing in the middle of the room, completely bare, still incredibly aroused, hurt, and confused beyond belief.

What...just...happened?

A/N:

First things first, thanks to StarryNight101 for beta-reading for me!

As usual, thanks to Order and Chaos, Lydia, mia78, and P for the reviews. Also, thank you to anyone who stumbled upon this story recently and favorited/followed :)

I'm sure many of you noticed that I took a bit of creative liberty with how the fight against Sahloknir started. Figured I'd try to change it up so that it didn't seem so play-by-play. I'm writing a Skyrim story, yes, but it's most definitely not a novelization of the game, so I try to tweak some things to keep it fresh. Also, I know, I'm a cruel person for adding to the sexual tension between these two, but I really wanted to ramp that up and kind of set the tone for the next phase of the story. They've still got lots to do in the main quest, but somewhere in between all that, Lisara's involvement with the Dark Brotherhood will return to haunt her, and obviously, Vilkas' lycanthropy is now a factor in their dynamic. Gracious, their lives are dramatic! On the plus side, hooray for something actually happening between the two of them!

See you guys next time! Hope y'all are still enjoying it :)