Cyréne yawned and took in her surroundings. Vilkas couldn't have been gone too long. An extra blanket had been tucked around her and a sweet-roll, so warm that the icing was still melting, sat on a plate beside the bed. She smiled to herself and reached for the note beside it. A little thrill ran through her at seeing her name written in his strong script.

Cyréne,

I'm sorry I can't join you for breakfast. There are pressing matters that require my attention.

-Vilkas

How formal, she mused. She set the note back down on the table. Her smile broadened and she twirled a golden lock around her fingers as she thought about the man she'd grown so attached to over the past months. Vilkas, Vilkas – a dark haired contradiction, fire incased in ice. Handled carefully he could be kept at a warm simmer of mild annoyance that seemed to suit him.

He'd sorely underestimated her during her trial. To her great amusement, he'd muttered something about her being more suited for bedding than battle as he led her out to the training yard to test her arm. After proving her skills beyond even his doubt, she'd been sorely tempted to make a smart remark about teaching him a few lessons in that other area, but had held her peace – barely.

As soon as she'd been accepted, she asked him to train her in with two-handed weapons. She'd no doubt that he'd enjoying beating her day after day, and his pride had healed quickly. Since then they'd developed a seemingly easy camaraderie. A lot of work went into keeping Vilkas in a tolerable mood, but lately, it seemed to be paying off. He'd seemed more at ease, and she found his every exaggerated sigh and amused smirk fed her addiction to his happiness.

She looked over at the note again and wondered about the man who left it. Things had taken a dangerously exciting turn over the last few hours. Despite her continued efforts to play the amusing puppy for his entertainment, she'd known he was starting to see through her ruse. And now the saber-kitten is definitely out of the bag.

"Oh well," she muttered, "he's just fire and ice – keep him at a simmer."

She wanted nothing more than to snuggle down in the covers, but the sudden memory of herself straddling him, while he moaned with his head back, lit her up like a flame Atronach. She wanted him so much it hurt – needed him to say her name in that sexy voice and watch her with that smoldering stare as he filled every inch of her. Groaning, she shook herself out of her fantasy. She scarfed down the sweet-roll, shoved the note in her pocket and made ready to leave.

When she entered Jorrvaskr a few minutes later, most of the Companions were milling about getting breakfast. To her surprise Njada approached her.

"Shield-Sister"

"Good morning, Njada. Keeping well?"

"Yes, quite."

"Um, may I be of service?"

Njada looked at her for a moment, eyes unreadable, and then said, "Friends like you are hard to find, and very valuable to me."

Cyréne's eyes widened. "Th-thank you, Njada. I feel the same."

Njada handed her a folded piece of paper. "If you're headed downstairs, please give this to Vilkas for me."

Cyréne smiled. "Of course. Wanna train later? I can always use some help with self-defense."

Njada gave her a strange look. "Perhaps."

Cyréne practically skipped down the hall. She'd secured some time off from Kodlak weeks ago, and she was beginning to think now was the perfect time to use it. She had her duties to see to at the college, of course, but perhaps Vilkas would travel there with her. She dropped her things on her bed and headed toward Vilkas's room with Njada's letter. She opened the door without thinking to knock . . .and felt the hard slap of her own words as fire seared down one side of her heart and ice shattered through the other.

Vilkas was facing away from her, his head buried against the neck of the woman he was taking against the wall. He growled against her as she arched into him. Before she could flee, the woman caught her gaze and held it.

"You've missed me haven't you Vilkas?" she purred.

The world seemed to slow.

"Yes."

"Mmmm, you're so good." The woman smiled, still looking at Cyréne, "Say my name, Vilkas."

No! Gods, please don't, Cyréne silently begged

"Yvette"

The letter floated to the floor. Yvette smiled wickedly and dug her nails into Vilkas's shoulders.

Cyréne rounded the corner to the whelp room and leaned against the wall gulping air. She dressed in leather armor and packed lightly, intent on losing herself in a ride, if she could make it to the stables without being caught. She knew she had to talk to Kodlak before she left, but nothing in the world could force her back down that hallway at the moment. She schooled her features as best she could, cast a calming spell over herself and headed upstairs. She caught Njada's eye as she left Jorrvaskr. "Thank you," she mouthed.

Njada closed her eyes briefly, nodded, and turned away.