Chapter 20

The leaves of the trees, which already changed their colors when the temperature started to drop from the coming winter, covered the forest floor while the snow covered them, hiding them from view. The air was cold, dropping at night to well below freezing. The plants were all dormant, dead to the world until spring came once again. The animals hid away, only coming out of their homes when they desperately had to. This season that they lived in was the hardest for all that had to suffer through it.

The Snatchers, however, seemed to be thriving in the present conditions. Nothing, not the snow or the cold, could slow them down and stop them from completing their missions. They were dedicated and it payed off. Only, soon, they would be stopping and resting for a few weeks to celebrate Christmas at the end of the month, and they were all looking forward to it. For Sira and Scabior, it meant that they could go home and not have to brave the elements each and every day. They were ready for a break and to be able to get away for a while.

But right now, Sira sat in her bed, coughing hard as she fought for breath. It was the day before their break and now her body decided to become ill. She hated being sick, it made her feel so horrible. Scabior walked into the room quickly with a mug of tea in his hands. His eyes studied her, growing concerned as the coughs rattled her body. She claimed it was just a cold but he didn't believe her. He sat down on the edge of the bed as her coughing stopped, offering the mug to her. "Thanks," she whispered, her voice hoarse, and she took an eager sip of it.

"Are you feeling any better?" He asked as she kept drinking, holding the mug close to her in between sips.

"No." She looked at him, her eyes dull with her suffering. "Are you sure you don't have anything to help with this?" He let out a sigh and shook his head a little.

"I'm sure I don't," he explained slowly before a little smile lit his face, "unless you want some firewhiskey." She let out a little laugh, which started her to start coughing.

"Nah, I'm good. I know I have something at home that could fix this. I'll just wait until tomorrow." He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, his touch comforting her.

"You may not 'ave to wait that long, because we may be going back tonight depending on 'ow things go today. I'll tell Greyback that you won't be coming along today." Fear hammered through her heart, she didn't want to tell him about Fenrir, but she knew she wouldn't have the strength to defend herself. She would be vulnerable.

"You don't have to tell him," she said, hiding all emotion from her tone.

"But he needs to know that you will be staying 'ere, beautiful," he stressed as he moved away from her and stood up, looking at her tenderly. "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied with a little smile as he left the room. She looked at the mug in her hands, wishing she hadn't let him go, wishing she would've said something more. "I should've said I wanted some firewhiskey."

Sira stepped out of her tent, the freezing air causing her to shiver uncontrollably as she pulled at her coat, making it tighter around her. It did nothing to warm her, not even taking away a little bit of her chill. Her eyes looked at the fire but she couldn't feel its heat. It might as well not be there at all. The tongues of flame taunted her, making her believe she could get some warmth, but it would never give it to her.

She moved closer to it, still not feeling anything but cold. Still no warmth. A cough rattled her chest so hard that it caused her stomach to churn. "You know you shouldn't be outside," a rough voice said from somewhere behind her. Her heart skipped a beat; she knew the voice.

She turned around quickly, her eyes locking with his. "Fenrir," she exhaled, her tone holding a little fear. His hands were in his pockets as he took slow, measured steps towards her. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that," he stated and her body went rigid. "If you're sick, you shouldn't be out here. Its not good for you." She dropped her eyes from his, allowing a breath to escape her mouth.

"I just needed to get out of the tent for a bit, that's all," she explained slowly before another round if coughing quaked her body.

"I bet you hate it, being alone and forced to stay inside," he growled as he stood before her, "and hacking your lungs out." She stifled another bought of coughs. "You know, I can give you something to help that." Her eyes flashed up to his face instantly.

"Really?"

"Yes, really," he stated as a smile twisted his face. He put his arm around her as the hunger entered his eyes. "You'll be feeling better in no time." His tone sent a pang of fear through her heart but the feel of his body next to hers felt so good for he was so warm. He gave her a warmth nothing else could. He lead her into his tent, and once inside, headed to a cabinet as she took a seat on his sofa. Just a few seconds later, he returned to her with a glass of some purplish potion in his hands. He handed it to her and she took it carefully.

"It should suppress the coughs at first, but then it'll get rid of anything else you may have," he explained as she raised the glass to her lips and drank deeply. The taste of it was smooth, not harsh or bitter. Its aftertaste, too, was sweet but a little metallic, like blood. She swallowed it quickly and then handed him the glass, which he went and put on a table top. By the time he returned to her, she already felt a little better.

Something about the way he looked at her asked her to stand, and she obeyed. His arms wrapped around her automatically as she let out a little gasp. His hand brushed against her cheek, his touch soft and yet overbearing. It sent shivers down her spine. She knew there was nothing she could do; he was in control and he was going to play the game his way. The look in his wolfish eyes told her all she needed to know. They were soft and powerful, showing her that he wasn't going to hurt her unless she fought against him.

"It's okay, girly," he breathed, and she became suddenly lightheaded and faint. Her blue eyes closed as his arms wrapped around her tighter. She was so confused and yet so aware. She knew what he wanted. She could tell it from his touch. But she didn't know what she wanted. Her mind was clouded and her thoughts were blurred; she didn't know what she was doing.

She moved into him, her head resting on his chest as he picked her up gently, carrying her out of the room and into another. He was a monster, something foreign to her, and she didn't exactly see him that way. "Fenrir," she whispered, the name raking against her teeth as his lips found her neck, his touch wanting so much more than that, "what about Scabior?"

"He doesn't matter anymore, my girl," he snarled softly as his hand slid down her side. "You're mine, you'll forever be mine." She finally realized where he had taken her.

He set her down gently in the bed, as if he was afraid that he would break her if he set her down too hard. Her eyes opened slowly, gazing up at him with her hazed-over blue eyes, causing him to give her a small, voracious smile. His desire for her radiated off of him, filling her chest with a sudden fluttering. There was something about him that made her want him too.

Maybe it was just the sickness, maybe it was just all in her head, but whatever it was, she knew that she longed for him.

She let out a small whimper as he moved closer to her. His warm breath hit her face, sending a shiver down down her spine as she closed her eyes, trying to cover the cough that clung to her throat.

His presence made her body suddenly grow warmer, like there was something about him that she needed. "Sira," he breathed as his lips kissed her jaw. Her body relaxed completely, making her feel confident in what she was doing.

His touch caused her heart to race, filled with danger, caused her to gasp as her head grew more clouded, and caused her hands to cup his face, her touch holding his wanting. He let out a snarling laugh as her mouth started to kiss his jaw. She was his.

Her breathes were slow and deep as she gradually came out of her peaceful sleep. She felt no pain, in fact, she felt nothing at all. Nothing but the bed sheets on her skin and her face on the pillow. A groan escaped her chest as she stretched, waking herself, and her blue eyes opened slowly.

Shock jolted through her heart as she suddenly became aware of where she was and, to add to her horror, what she'd done.

She bolted upright, her hands automatically moving to her mouth as she stifled a scream, which burned in the back of her throat. But she knew she couldn't, in fear that Fenrir was still nearby and would her hear. Guilt pounded through her body. What would she tell Scabior?

Calm down, she told herself. Calm down and think. As she dropped her hands from her mouth, she took a long breath, forcing herself to refocus. She just needed to get out and get back to Scabior and tell him what happened. She hoped desperately that he would forgive her. Quickly, she pulled on her scattered clothing and left the tent, never looking back, never focusing on anything other than her tent, her future.

She entered it quickly, to be met instantly by him, his blue-grey eyes tenderly gazing at her with worry and relief. "I was starting to worry about you, beautiful," he said as he moved closer to her, causing her regret to shoot through her, "since you 'aven't been feeling the best and since you didn't leave a note." A little smile flashed across his lips for a millisecond; she swallowed hard.

"I have to tell you something," she stated quickly, taking his hand and leading him into their bedroom before he could say a word. Once there, she moved as far away from him as she possibly could, her eyes down. She refused to look at him.

"Sira, what's wrong?" She ran her hands through her loose curls, contemplating what to say. With a sigh, she looked at him, her eyes dull and sad.

"I did something horrible, and- and I had no clue I was even doing it. He overpowered me, he controlled me, and I didn't even know what was going on." She had to drop her eyes again, his stare was too much for her to take. Her face went into her hands as the tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"What 'appened?"

"After you left, I went outside the tent for a bit of fresh air and Fenrir found me. He told me that I shouldn't have been outside in the cold since I was sick but he said that he had something that could help me, and I took his offer." The tears started to stream freely down her face, which was masked with her desperation. "We went into his tent and he gave me something to fix my coughing and then he-." Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor, sobs tremoring her body. "I'm so so sorry, Scabior."

Slowly, he walked up to her, kneeling down when he reached her, and pulled her close, his touch telling her that he wasn't angry with her. "What do you want to do now?" He asked softly. She rested her head against his chest, still not looking at him.

"I want to go home. I don't want to be here anymore," she muttered, her voice childlike.

"Okay, beautiful," he stated and within a few minutes, everything was packed.

They were headed home.