Chapter 24
"The Wolf"

Recommended Songs: "Angel" – Massive Attack & "The First Time" – U2

Weightless she floated across the surface without touching the ground. Under the full moon's light, her vestal white dress and skin glowed as if reflecting the rays and acting like a beacon in the darkness. That same transparent white gown which had betrayed her so long ago barely skimmed her body and shone brightly, cutting through the darkness and calling him to her. The wood was dense and dark, and all was silent aside from her breath which came and went with a wordless urgency. She had followed this path many times before, and she knew what fate awaited her; but she pressed forward, driven by a force that she was powerless to fight. She felt his hungry eyes on her, slicing through the forest with ease, and they settled on her narrow form. All at once, her fear awoke from deep within her and crashed through her limbs to consume her, and she tried to run. Her bare feet were on the grass, but simultaneously she couldn't find the contact. Some invisible hand restrained her and held her in place though she tried desperately to flee from his presence, but by now, she knew that it was too late. Her heart beat unsteadily in her chest as she realized he would be on her at any moment. Agony and terror flooded her, but she could not move to defy him. Already he had hunted her down and captured her.

The darkness around her shifted restlessly, a wild creature unto itself, and it strained to engulf her and hide her away from the light. It was so heavy that it suffocated her with its pressure, but then she saw the two golden orbs of his eyes pierce through the sheer blackness. Her heart painfully came to a dead halt when the beast stepped out into the moonlight of the narrow opening in the trees and revealed its form in all its exquisite horror. The wolf was gargantuan with thick grey fur that glistened like quick silver beneath the light, constantly shifting, changing, moving with the darkness surrounding them. His coat glowed beneath the moonlight and illuminated his harrowing presence in the night. His gold eyes cut through her with such an intensity that they left her quivering in their wake, and his lips curled back slowly to reveal his pointed teeth in a menacing snarl. His taut muscles moved with a fluid elegance as the terrifyingly beautiful creature stalked along the edge of the trees before her, sizing up his prey and taunting her with his patience. His mere presence unlocked something deep within her, and somewhere beyond her control, her arms lifted from her sides. She reached for him.

At first, his head bowed to grant himself a better look at her, and he gauged her resolve before moving closer to meet her. Her fingers were buried in the thick fur surrounding his face and neck first, and he was so large that he was nearly as tall as her though still on all four of his legs. She lost her hands in the vast expanse of his silver coat, and she knelt before him to be on level with his dangerous eyes. They shifted beneath light, hinting at his desire, but she stroked his fur and licked her dry lips. She had no intention of retreating now. He had entranced her, and she would give him everything. Slowly his snout retracted against his face, his fur melted away, his figure effortlessly transformed, and she realized when he had accomplished his metamorphosis that her fingers were tangled in familiar dark brown curls. His golden eyes were all that remained as a constant reminder of the predator within, but for that moment, he was hers. Her hands slid from his head down his neck and across his broad shoulders, tracing and memorizing the contours of the familiar taut muscles lining his arms. Her eyes eagerly drank in the sight of his naked form before her where he knelt exposed and unashamed for her hungry gaze. Her heartbeat was deafening in her ears. The terror never left her, but a new deluge of anticipation flooded her narrow form with the undisclosed knowledge of what would happen this night. He was wild, unrestrained, and dangerous, and shadows traced the lines of his body against the moonlight, radiating off of him as if it were his very essence. Stunned, she admired the strength of his figure poised before her: every angle and contour was tempting and alluring.

His gaze silently beckoned her, and without hesitation, she lifted her chin and met his gold eyes. At the sight, the fear dissolved immediately from her, and a now familiar heat awoke deep in her abdomen and spread like wildfire through her limbs. His breath was warm on her face as he bent forward and leant his lips to hers. The tenderness of his kiss was deceiving and distracted her from the awareness of his purpose. She took hold of his face and drew him closer to her, encouraging him to take more of her. A strong arm slipped around her waist and drew her against his chest to steady her as he laid her back on the cool grass beneath him. She welcomed the weight of his form against her and wrapped her arms around his broad chest, holding him firmly in place to her, but she knew that he would not depart until his hunger was satiated. He paused then to grant her a flash of his golden orbs. Within them lay a warning of his true nature and a final chance to send him away. Willingly, she met his kiss without fear and matched the hunger and need behind it with her own.

He lifted away from her slightly to trace out the lines of her shape, trailing across her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbones, and continuing his descent. His rough fingertips on her skin left liquid fire in their wake, and she arched her back to grant him greater access to her. Acknowledging her approval, his mouth replaced his hands on her, and she twisted her fingers in his curls, digging her nails carelessly into the skin of his scalp to steady herself under the waves of ecstasy crashing through her. With his lips and tongue, he expertly coaxed the last of her will power away and left her defenseless to his every whim. He covered every inch of her available skin: nibbling, biting, kissing, licking, sucking, savoring the meal to come. She closed her eyes and moaned softly as he devoured her.

Then his calloused hands reached back and painstakingly drew the material of her dress up her legs. The roughness of his hands sent chills of pleasure up her spine when they met the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Her back arched with more force at the sensation, and he allowed his nails to drag lightly back down the length of her legs as he taunted her. He made her want it, need it, beg for it. The wolf so cunningly trapped his prey and drew his thumb across the soft skin of her full lips where they were parted and beckoned for his kiss. She whimpered ever so softly when she felt the grain of his beard against the tender skin of her neck, and the warmth of his breath warned of the proximity of his mouth. Rather than shrinking from his lust, she rose to meet it and strained to force more contact between them by arching her back, reaching out to pull him closer, and restlessly moving her hips. At last, he took pity on her and drew his tongue down the notch between her collarbones, marking her as his own.

Her hips shifted impatiently beneath him, but he savored every ounce of her tender flesh as he moved into the valley of her breasts. Without hesitation she drew the fabric from her shoulders and off her arms to allow him all of her and lifted herself up onto her elbows to watch his lips caress her skin with all the gentleness of a lover. His gold eyes noticed her interest, and he was only too pleased to show her his prowess and skill. He dragged his lips across the curve with a patience that drove her crazy, but soon his teeth took hold of the hardened skin. His tongue flicked across the bud, and her head dropped back between her shoulders while she moaned loudly. She lifted her hips and rocked them against his, and her body begged him to take every piece of her and have his fill. He growled deep in his throat as he felt her moving beneath him, and her eyes lit up with delight at his reaction.

In a second, he forced her flat on her back and hovered above her with the dark urgency of his purpose revealed fully in the lines of his handsome face. The wolf in his endless desire would devour her and leave nothing but the bones. Without hesitation, she parted her legs and granted him access to her every piece of her, and she held her breath expectantly when she felt his hips slide between her inner thighs. His eyes did not stray from her face when he moved swiftly, but she threw her head back as she arched her spine in response to the pleasure recklessly crashing through her. It was a sweet surrender allowing him to take her for his own pleasure, and she dug her nails into the grass beneath them in an attempt to steady herself. Her eyes closed against the force he exerted on her, crashing into her roughly and carelessly, but her mouth moaned out her approval. His every movement was wild and hungry, and she wavered somewhere between complete satisfaction and torture. He lit her body on fire beneath him, and the simultaneous heat of pleasure and pain was more than she could bear.

Under the shadow of night, they were one, irreverently baptized by the moonlight. Her body quivered beneath him, and with every thrust, he made her feel more alive than ever. She welcomed each swift movement, heard every breathless gasp, felt the heat lining their joined bodies in contrast to the cool grass at her back, and eagerly met his gold eyes which bore into her and kept her from fleeing her fate. Under his guidance, he coaxed her to the edge of her own desire, and all at once she jumped and gave in fully to her all-consuming need. Simultaneously, his teeth tore open her throat, and he lapped at the warm, red liquid, killing her softly with each passing moment. The thick blood trailed over her collarbones, down her chest, and to the gathered white material of her dress, but even the pain couldn't compete with the end he pushed her to. Her back arched further against his strong form as if she could fade into him completely, and a feeling of ultimate satisfaction flooded her and left her trembling in the darkness of its wake.

In the twilight before the break of day, he had mercilessly taken all as promised, and her prince surrendered to the wolf and left her. They would never see a dawn that could break the curse surrounding them. Their condemned love could only be realized in the shadows of the night where they could hide from the light of day. She was left alone then to nurse the tattered remains of her body for he had devoured her soul and taken her heart for a trophy.

—

As her fever overcame her, Myrina slipped in and out of consciousness so often that she failed to recognize what was real and what was of her imagination. Every night that she slept, she dreamt the same thing: Hector coming to her as a wolf to take everything from her; and every night she welcomed him with open arms. How long it had been since their last meeting was unknown to her. All she knew was that some time after he left, this seemingly innocent, insignificant illness had first plagued her, but now it was far more sinister. At first, the symptoms had been normal. She was weary at all hours despite how much sleep she had, and her muscles ached; but she had pushed herself to maintain her chores and to take care of her family. She was never one to be ill, and it hadn't seemed too dangerous. Then, somehow the weariness permeated through her days, and she became increasingly more and more nauseous until she had an aversion to eating or drinking anything. Unfortunately, by the time she realized how much of her strength had waned from the illness and lack of nourishment, it was too late. Her body would no longer accept anything so that even when she forced herself to eat or drink something, she would be rid of it only a short time later. This was undoubtedly what was killing her so slowly, and honestly, she felt as though she were waiting to die.

Another wave of nausea came over her, and she frowned deeply, struggling to ignore it. It was too soon after the previous one, but on this night, she seemed to be waking every hour in response to her sickness. The only way to calm it was to force herself. "Korina," she groaned out pitifully through her raspy throat. There was no sound signaling her friend's approach. Evidently it wasn't loud enough, and she tried again, "Korina!"

Only a few seconds later, the woman appeared in the doorway, and the moment she saw Myrina's contorted, pale features, she knew why she had been called. "Again?" she asked and shook her head in obvious disapproval.

"Please," Myrina begged and reached out for the other woman. Reluctantly, Korina approached the bed and helped Myrina sit up and stand. Bearing the majority of her weight, Korina helped Myrina slowly drag her feet one by one over to where the pot was located. Then Myrina carefully knelt, and Korina held back her hair with one hand while steadying her with the other. As was usual at that stage in her illness, her body had no desire to vomit since there had been nothing to offer in days, but it was the only way Myrina had found to stop the nausea. Still, she waited, dreading how she would feel by forcing herself. At the thought, she groaned and shook her head while rocking herself gently back and forth. The rocking calmed her stomach for some reason, but she was so weak that she could only shift her weight for so long before she grew tired.

When minutes passed without any improvements, Korina softly asked, "Could you try to drink some water?"

"I can't," she answered immediately despite how thirsty she was. "You know what will happen."

"You should try. You need to drink some water or..."

"I know."

"Please try for me." Myrina sighed in return and reluctantly nodded her head. Korina nearly sprinted from the room and called back, "I will only be a moment." Myrina knew this routine well enough since Korina and Isidora alternated convincing her. She understood that she needed to drink and that Korina and Isidora were only doing it out of love, but she simply couldn't keep it down. As promised, a second later Korina returned with a full cup and set it down beside Myrina's weak form. A full cup of water seemed too optimistic, but Myrina didn't comment on it. Instead, she reached out to grasp the cup, and her arm shook weakly as she lifted it to her lips. Initially, she stared at it as though she could conquer it without truly having to engulf it. "You only need to drink a little," Korina coaxed from behind her. Myrina grimaced and took a small sip, feeling the cool liquid slide down her dry throat and settle in her empty stomach. She wished she could drink the entire cup as well as twenty more since she was so parched, but she knew how much more that would affect her. As it was, the one bead of water became more and more noticeable in her gut as though her body were acknowledging the alien substance inside it. The nausea grew progressively, and Myrina groaned in warning. "Don't," Korina immediately said but took hold of Myrina's hair to be safe. "Hold on a bit longer. If you only wait a moment longer, it will pass."

"I can't," she gasped through the tightening in her throat, and then it came, pummeling in a tidal wave through her narrow frame all the way from the tip of her spine up through the crown of her head. Her body similarly contorted and rocked while her insides clenched so tightly it hurt. She couldn't breathe or move, and there went the water mingled with the pale, foamy liquid from her stomach. Her muscles pushed it out with every piece of the waning strength they had; and it seemed to be an eternity before they released, and she was able to breathe once more. She gasped for breath as though she had been submerged under water, but another wave was already brewing on the horizon. Once more it tore through her, and her every single muscle contracted until the last of the water was gone. In its wake, the nausea had disappeared, but that was not the end. In her exhaustion, Myrina fell onto her hip and caught herself before anything else could meet the floor. Only a moment later, however, her arm gave out, and she collapsed completely onto her side. Yet again, her muscles tightened all over her body, squeezing painfully around the bones, and she began shivering uncontrollably against the cold floor.

Korina knelt beside her and rubbed at her slender arms while cooing soothingly, "It's over. Breathe. You need to breathe." The shivering had come a short while after she had stopped eating, and it came and went periodically. It wasn't simply because she was cold: it came without reason, and she was powerless to stop it. Thus, she shook all over for several minutes later, but the shivering stopped. A few lingering bouts remained, but soon Myrina relaxed against the floor. She felt too exhausted to stand and walk back to her bed. This acknowledgment only made her realize that it wouldn't be long before she was unable to make this simple trip at all. Korina stroked her arm and murmured, "You cannot sleep here... You can make it back to your bed."

"Give me a moment," Myrina pleaded in barely a whisper, and she was still struggling to catch her breath. At length, Korina began pushing her damp curls back from her face, and all was quiet aside from Myrina's shaky breathing.

"Are you ready?" Korina asked after some time had passed, and Myrina weakly nodded her head. In response, Korina took her hands and helped her sit up before grasping her beneath her arms and lifting her. Though Myrina was a petite woman and weighed even less in her current state, she was little help to Korina who struggled to place Myrina on her feet. Myrina feared Korina would exert herself too much, and she used every piece of tattered strength to brace herself as they made their way back to her bed. Once there, Myrina slowly lay down on her side, and Korina drew the sheet around her shoulders. Myrina was winded by the short journey, and already her lids were heavy from her exhaustion and weariness. Korina adjusted the sheet around her to be sure it covered her entirely while asking, "Do you need anything?"

"No. Thank you," she murmured and readjusted her position, careful not to stir the nausea again.

"Call for me if you need me. I will only be down the hall."

"Thank you," she repeated, and Korina excused herself. Now alone, Myrina closed her eyes and focused on her erratic heartbeat and breath. She struggled to calm both, but it was a difficult task to manage -especially with her weariness settling in. It wasn't long until she slipped away into her subconscious and found herself treading a familiar, dark path out into the woods where he was waiting for her.

"You must be faster, Paris," Hector growled out in frustration. His patience had long since bowed out, and he glared at his younger sibling who seemed far too distracted that afternoon for his liking. Paris grimaced at being corrected for the umpteenth time that day and swallowed down a rude retort. After all, Hector was armed, and he knew well enough of his older brother's short-temper. The tall Trojan prince began pacing restlessly in front of Paris and barked, "Are you even trying?"

"Yes!" Paris finally cried out in return. The sweat slipped down his slender frame without pause, and he wiped at the beads accumulating on his brow. "I am exhausted, brother."

"You wouldn't be if you had kept up your training while I was gone. Do you want this, or am I wasting my time?" Hector knew he was being too blunt with his fragile younger brother, but as far as he was concerned, Paris needed to toughen up. Life was not all stories and poetry and love. He frowned deeply as the last word crossed his mind, and he attempted to shrug off the memory. Once more, she caused sleepless nights for him, and he felt tormented night and day over what he had done –or rather what he hadn't. "Try harder!" he finally yelled to distract himself, and he stood poised for Paris to attack him.

The younger man sighed while gathering his wits about him and lunged at his brother. Hector easily sidestepped the attack and hit Paris in the chest with the butt of his practice sword. Paris stumbled backward and placed a hand to his chest which burned now from the force of the blow. He glared up at Hector, and he felt such overwhelming anger and frustration toward his brother in that moment. Without hesitation, he swung up across Hector's chest, but the other man was always barely out of his reach no matter how fast he was or how hard he tried. Hector was always better. The acknowledgment of this fact only aggravated Paris further, and he attacked with more fervor. Hector placed his leg behind his brother's knees, elbowed him backward, and knelt beside him with his blade at his neck when Paris fell flat on his back. Usually that would be the end of it, but Paris was still too annoyed. He abandoned his sword, swung back, and punched Hector right beneath his eye. The older prince stood immediately and placed a hand to his face while Paris scrambled to his feet to face his brother. It was a good shot, but Hector was more angered that Paris had managed to land a blow. Hector should have been untouchable. He advanced on his brother whose face fell as Paris undoubtedly realized he had made a grave mistake. Paris backed away, but there was nowhere for him to run. Inevitably, Hector grabbed Paris' robes and threw the young man back several feet. Paris landed roughly on his back, but all the wind had been knocked from his lungs. He struggled to regain his wits and rise to his feet, but Hector was already looming over him. Paris attempted to maintain his composure, but his older brother was terrifying when angry. It was only a question of how he would take it out on Paris.

Hector's chest rose and fell rapidly beneath his drawn breath, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides; but staring down at his young, witless, impulsive brother, he lost his desire to beat his face into a pulp. There was no satisfaction to be had in besting someone so much weaker than him, and reluctantly, he held out his hand to his brother. Paris didn't seem to trust the action at first, and Hector impatiently stuck his hand out further, wordlessly encouraging Paris to take it. It was a gesture of peace, but that didn't mean Hector still didn't want to break his younger sibling's nose. He was simply being the more mature man even though doing so was incredibly irritating. Finally, Paris grasped his brother's hand, and Hector pulled him up to his feet.

"That's enough for today," he said and turned away to walk back to the palace. "Put all of this away before you leave." Paris was too stunned by his brother's sudden change of heart to complain about being left to clean up. Thus, he was silent as he watched Hector walk away.

Hector ran a hand through his damp curls to push them out of his face as he made his way through the crowded marketplace. Despite himself, his chestnut eyes were drawn to a particular stand situated next to an alleyway that would lead back to the washing area. Even the marketplace of Troy reminded him of her: everything reminded him of her. She had permeated his life so easily, so completely, and now being without her left him uneasy and confused. It had been nearly two weeks since their last disastrous encounter, and every day, he was weighed down by the burden of what he must do if he wanted her back. He needed to apologize, and he needed to be honest as she had always expected him to be; but that was far easier said than done. He was more accustomed to swallowing his pride with her considering all the idiotic things he had done or said to her over the years, but this was different. This was beyond anything he had anticipated, or anything he knew how to handle. Why did she have to say anything? Why did she have to force this to his attention? He was a soldier first and foremost. He was not prepared for that sort of an exchange. What could she possibly expect from him? A more troubling thought that plagued him was how could she love him? After everything he had put her through that was the last thing she should feel toward him. He was too short-tempered, he was gone too often to fight at war, he pushed her too far on numerous occasions… Remembering those sincere blue-green eyes, he didn't feel worthy of them. He didn't feel that he deserved her.

At that moment, his gaze settled on a familiar face. Considering the magnitude of thoughts weighing over him, it took him a moment to focus on the features and grant the sour face a name: Isidora. With the recognition came a renewed sense of guilt, and he frantically looked around the marketplace for any sign of the old servant's lady. He was unable to locate her, and that made him feel more anxious as though there were some danger in her seeing him first. Perhaps he worried that she would flee and not speak with him, but if he could find her, then he would corner her and somehow fix what he had done. Still, there was no sight of her, and without hesitation, he maneuvered over toward the old woman. Once she noticed the tall prince approaching her, her mouth curved downward, and she readjusted the basket on her arm so that she could reach up and tug her grey veil forward further. It was too late since Hector had already picked her out, but she evidently would not face him without exhausting all other options. Of course Hector was much faster than her so she couldn't literally flee from him, and he soon was standing in front of her.

"Where is she?" he snapped, too impatient to be polite.

"Not here," Isidora rejoined and stepped around him to continue on her path.

"She did not accompany you?" he clarified, and his doubt was evident in his tone.

"No." The woman offered no more, but Hector did not surrender so easily.

"Where is she then?"

"Home."

"Why did she not come with you?" Isidora grumbled and glared up at Hector for continuing to pester her, and only then did he notice the lines in her faces were magnified tenfold most likely due to lack of sleep if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication. For some reason, that detail stood out to him, and his gaze drifted down to consider the contents of her basket. It was nothing but medicinal herbs and potions. The pieces fit easily together in his head, and he pressed, "Is she ill?"

"What concern is it of yours?" the old woman shot back. "I saw how you left her last time. If you wish her well, leave her be."

For the moment, Hector ignored the jab and continued, "What is wrong? How long has she been ill?"

Staring up into his concerned face, Isidora reluctantly bit back any further remarks about his faulty character and the adverse effect he was having on Myrina and answered him honestly, "Almost a fortnight."

"What ails her?" His brow furrowed deeply at this news, and all the other thoughts plaguing his mind dissipated without hesitation.

Isidora would not normally be so candid with the prince, but Myrina's health had been a major concern of hers as of late. She was unable to censor herself entirely or keep her emotions out of it. "I'm not sure... I've seen nothing like it." She sighed and glanced up at Hector who was waiting expectantly for every piece of information Isidora was willing to give him. The sight of his earnest expression caused her to softly admit, "You may wish to see her... in case."

In a second, an invisible hand gripped his gut and tied it up in knots, and he bent closer as he asked, "In case of what?"

Isidora exhaled shakily and swallowed against a lump in her throat. It formed every time she thought of what fate awaited the young woman who was the closest thing she had to a daughter. There was no need to lie, and she responded, "She has not eaten or drank anything in four days. She can't. Her body won't hold it."

"Four days," he repeated beneath his breath as his mind wrapped around the drear reality of what this meant. How long could men last without food or water? In their arid climate, it was a well known necessity to stay nourished and hydrated. The heat of the days was dangerous for even seasoned, burly farmers. In contrast, he thought of how fragile and petite she was. How long would she last? There was fear in Isidora's eyes, and she had vaguely hinted at what fate awaited Myrina in her current condition. "No," he said suddenly and grabbed her arm. He hadn't meant to speak it aloud, but it had resonated so powerfully through him. Nothing would happen to her. He wouldn't allow it. "Are returning now?"

"Yes. I need to bring these medicines back to her. Perhaps one will work thi-"

"I'll take you," he interrupted and ignored the confused look Isidora granted him. "Quickly. We have no time." With that, he pulled her away toward the palace, nearly dragging her behind him with his brusque, long strides, but he had no patience whatsoever. He was on a mission, and nothing would stop him.

—

Hours later he nervously paced up and down the hallway while Isidora was seated in a chair which she had pulled near the door. Occasionally he would pause before the door and listen, but for a long time, there was nothing to be heard. When his nerves inevitably returned, he would begin pacing yet again with Isidora watching him repeat the pattern over and over again, crowding the narrow space with his burly frame.

"Would you sit down?" she finally snapped and motioned toward the second chair she had situated in the hallway. "You will drive me mad."

Hector shot her a glare but continued his pacing since it was the only option he had to dispel his anxiety in that moment. "How much longer will he be?" he grumbled irritably and paused yet again in front of the door.

Isidora made a point to sigh heavily from his right and rubbed at her temples as if her aversion to his pacing was any mystery at that point. "Sit," she commanded a final time.

Reluctantly, Hector took the seat and crossed his arms over his chest. Not a moment later his heel began bouncing, moving his whole left leg in the process, and his face darkened as he considered what could possibly be going on within the confines of the room. He understood why he and Isidora were not to interrupt the examination, but he swore he had been in that hallway for hours now. "Maybe I should go in."

"Sit," Isidora repeated in annoyance. "Let him work without interruption. Myrina needs his undivided attention."

The comment silenced Hector for the time, but he abandoned the seat once more and began pacing restlessly in front of the door. Barely a moment passed before the door cracked open, and Eumolpus slipped out into the hallway. Immediately, Hector and Isidora crowded around him to hear what news he brought of the ill young woman. "How is she?" Hector pried anxiously.

"She will be well, but you were right to have called me here. A few more days, and it may have been too late for me to be of any aid," he said earnestly. The thought made the prince's insides turn, and he glanced through the cracked door where he could faintly make out the lines of her legs covered by a thin sheet.

"What ails her?" Isidora asked.

"I can only assume there is some underlying illness, but now it is mainly a lack of food and water," he explained. "I gave her a potion to help with the nausea. It will make her sleep, and she needs to rest. You may give it to her no more than four times a day. Anymore, and it may irritate her and have the opposite effect..." He continued giving Isidora all the details on how to properly care for Myrina, and Hector did his best to listen. However, he continually looked toward the cracked door, clearly yearning to see for himself how she was faring. "You can see her now, my lord." The sentence caused him to return his attention to Eumolpus, and the latter encouraged him, "You may sit with her. She is resting." Rather than feeling embarrassed at being caught staring into the room, he pushed the door open and stepped inside to finally face her for the first time since arriving.

The sight of her momentarily robbed him of his strength and resolve to face her. In the dim lighting, her skin was of a pale, sickly pallor which hinted at the life slowly slipping away from her. Her cheeks were slightly sunken, and the skin surrounding her eyes was noticeably darker. Her hair was fanned out across her pillow, but a few stray pieces stuck to her damp skin around her forehead and on her shoulders. After the initial shock wore off, he numbly approached her, and a dull sound became more apparent as he grew closer. With each shallow breath she drew, there was a faint rattling and wheezing, and her pale lips were parted slightly to suck in the air. For the moment, Hector was unsure how to react. Somehow he had expected seeing her to dispel his nervous energy, but it swarmed restlessly around him, contracting around his chest until it was difficult to breathe. He had not anticipated this, and he felt blindsided by the realization of how far gone she actually was. He had known, but actually seeing it resonated on an entirely different level. Time became irrelevant as he stood beside her and struggled to decipher his feelings, but then her eyes wearily fluttered open. Even the blue-green orbs which had always betrayed the vibrant nature within her were lackluster, a dull flickering compared to their usual fire. It was like a knife to his chest, and all the air was sucked from his lungs.

Her eyes focused on his face, and then she lifted an arm to reach for him. It drooped slightly in the air as though fighting gravity were a near impossible task for her. He immediately sat on the edge of the bed, took her arm, and kissed the palm of her hand which was reaching for his face. Her fingers curled slightly to graze his beard, and she asked in a raspy whisper, "Are you real?"

It was the last thing he expected her to ask, and it only proved how far she was drifting away from reality. He held onto her hand tighter and promised, "Yes."

"I dreamt of you," she continued for the vision had been haunting her all day, every minute whether she was conscious or otherwise. When she first saw his face, she expected to be met with golden eyes, but he was a mere man and not the creature of her fantasy.

"I hope it was a good dream," Hector teased with a gentle smile since he was unsure how else to respond.

"You came to me as a wolf," she murmured while staring intently up at him, and his eyes narrowed for something in the tone of her voice caught his attention; or perhaps her words merely intrigued him. For whatever reason, his chestnut eyes gazed down at her, and she hated him for his neutrality at that moment. She could not read his emotions.

"How did you know it was me?" he wondered cautiously. The look in her eyes and tone of her voice apparently had him uncertain of her intent.

She had been painstakingly retrieving every detail of the dream from her memory, and she inspected his lips, the angles of his form, and the look of his eyes, hopefully searching for any sign of the wolf. "You revealed yourself to me."

Her words left some ambiguity, and he clarified, "I spoke with you?"

She slowly shook her head. "You changed shape before me from the wolf to yourself." Finally, he granted her some sign of emotion, but it was not much. He merely lifted his brow slightly to show interest or maybe surprise. Still, she could not understand his thoughts, and she so desperately wanted a peek inside his head. Did he think it was silly dream, or could he see the desire pulsating through her without pause? Her body ached from an unfulfilled need, and her skin was heated whether she was in the shade or not, leaving her skin dewy with sweat. Her heart beat swiftly though he only sat beside her. The proximity of the man who had come to her in a dream and unleashed something within her made her simultaneously anxious, excited, and uncertain. She did not think she could express it to him, and she understood how inappropriate it was. Yet there she was feeding him clues as if guiding him toward the conclusion.

"Did you fear me?" he asked suddenly though he was no longer looking at her any more and instead inspected their joined hands where they were resting on the bed.

"Yes," she admitted and wet her lips while staring up at his handsome profile. "At first, but then I wasn't afraid."

"Because it was me?"

She hadn't necessarily considered why her fear left. She had assumed there was no more room for any other emotion in her body after what he stirred within her. "Yes."

He nodded his head, but his brow was slightly furrowed as though he were attempting to make sense of her dream as well. "You think of me as a wolf," he murmured pensively.

"You were beautiful," she assured him, and this caught his attention so that his gaze slid over to her once more. "You were silver with gold eyes, and bigger than any wolf. You were almost as tall as me."

He smiled then and pointed out, "That is not so large."

Even when she was serious, he managed to tease her somehow, but she was in no mood for it. "When you were yourself, you still had gold eyes."

Hector wasn't sure how to respond, and he simply squeezed her hand and said, "You should rest."

Myrina's lids were falling lower and lower with every passing second, and the prospect of sleep seemed so alluring. Still, she wished she could stay awake and speak with Hector for longer. "Will you stay with me?" she asked softly. "I've missed you." The details of their past encounter seemed so insignificant in that moment, and she was simply happy he was near her and with her.

Once more, he promised, "Yes." The word had barely left his lips before her features relaxed, and she slipped away. As far as he was concerned, nothing would tear him away and cause him to break his promise. He held her hand with his resolve increasing, but it turned like the tide to remind him of his unyielding concern and fear. Realizing the latter, he frowned somewhat and was forced to acknowledge that he was afraid. It was not an emotion the prince typically perceived, and he struggled with its unusual presence inside of him. His mind seemed to wonder, 'Why are you feeling this?' Only a moment later it dawned on him. He was afraid to lose her. She had been in his life since they were children, and their time together seemed unfinished. He wasn't prepared to let go so soon, and subconsciously his grip on her hand tightened. What would he do without her? Never before had he been faced with the power she had on him and the place she had in his life. Who would he speak with? Who would he visit?

The realization weighed down on him, and he struggled to abandon his guarded nature and be honest. "I-" The words evaded him, and he dropped his head to consider their joined hands yet again. It was easier if he didn't look at her even if she were asleep. "I never felt alone until I met you." The thought had occurred to him while he was south fighting off the uprising. He had always been on his own, and he had never felt remiss about his independence and self-sufficiency. In fact, he felt proud that he never needed anyone. Then somehow she slipped into his life, and when without her, he consulted the golden pin if only to remind himself of her and feel some connection to her. Honestly, it scared him feeling attached to someone especially now that she might leave him. It was absolutely terrifying, and it was yet another emotion Hector was not accustomed to facing. He drew in a steadying breath and pressed on, "I would change if I could." His head bent lower while he silently recalled all the times he had upset her or treated her poorly. "I would never hurt you again."

His heart stopped when he felt her squeeze his hand, and he swallowed down his fear as he reluctantly lifted his gaze to see her peering up at him with a soft smile. Had she heard him? He had thought she was asleep. He held his breath, not knowing how to explain himself, but it wasn't necessary. In barely a whisper, she uttered five words which would resonate with him forever, "I never asked you to change."

It hit him like a blow to the face, and he exhaled shakily through his nostrils while the recognition pummeled through him. Long ago she had asked him to be honest and to be himself. Even at his worst, she had accepted him, and he clenched his jaw against the strong emotion now spreading from his abdomen out through his veins. He felt loved. All his life, he had strived to be the crown prince everyone expected him to be. He had hidden his imperfections, masked his true feelings, and run from anything that might make risk his resolve. Yet there she had been, an escape where he didn't have to plan out his every word or act a certain way. He was able to be, and perhaps that was why she gave him such peace and relief from his life. No one had ever accepted him, both the good and the bad, and he suddenly wanted to be better for her. He wanted to be someone worthy of her love. She made him want to be a better man.

"I'm sorry," he admitted earnestly, and though it was late, she seemed to understand that he was referencing his last visit. "I should have told you-"

"I know." She squeezed his hand and rubbed her thumb over his skin. "You don't have to say it."

At that second, a hand was on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin since he had momentarily forgotten there was anything beyond the two of them. He turned to see Isidora standing behind him, and he glared at her for interrupting them. "Her father and brother will be home soon," she said, and for once, there was no malice in her tone. "You need to leave."

"No," he countered flatly.

"You can't let them find out this way," she pressed.

He opened his mouth to retort, but Myrina spoke up from behind him, "Go." He considered her with a darkened expression, and she granted him a bittersweet smile. "I don't want my father to see us like this." He sighed, torn between remaining by her side or giving into their joint reason. Some part of him feared leaving her in the event that she would not get better. She seemed to read his thoughts and promised, "I will be well soon. Visit me again, and you will see." Despite himself, he stood without releasing her hand and still sought out the resolve to leave her side. "Go," she repeated encouragingly, but the smile disappeared from her features, granting him a glimpse at her own reluctance.

"I will see you soon," he said and bent to kiss her dewy forehead. "Be well."

"I will."

Reluctantly, he let go, and Isidora coaxed him to the doorway. He glanced back at her before he turned the corner, but her eyes were closed so that he was unable to meet her gaze. His body suddenly felt leaden, but he met Eumolpus outside where the two horses were already awaiting their departure. The pair mounted their steeds, and he hesitated with his horse restlessly moving beneath him as he gazed back at the home. There was still time for him to return and see her once more.

"Quickly!" Isidora warned from nearby.

All at once, he dug his heels into the sides of his horse, and Eumolpus matched his pace as they galloped out of the village. The woman with chocolate curls who had housed Aeneas when injured stood outside of her home, watching the riders pass with a frown of simultaneous confusion and curiosity. Hector glanced at her as they passed and met her gaze, but he quickly looked away and pushed his horse on faster. Without thinking, he had revealed his identity and risked exposing his relationship with Myrina. He had not been thinking logically and mentally chastised himself for slipping. Hopefully she would not piece together his presence and Myrina's illness, but it seemed the only possible result. He glanced back over his shoulder to see her crossing the village toward Myrina's home, and he gritted his teeth, praying she would not cause trouble for Myrina; but for the moment, there was nothing further that he could do. He rode to Troy, but he swore he would return as soon as he could.

Author's Note: Hello dolls! It's soooo good to be home :) Again, I'm sorry of the delay, but I was enjoying my meager two weeks of summer haha

Thank you to Avatar2009, Syrena Swift, AmyLNelson, and KawaiiHawaiian for the lovely reviews! You guys are awesome :D

Avatar: Perhaps after this chapter your stance on hitting Hector in the balls has changed? hahaha He's going to do his best to be a lot better after this since he's realized how much she means to him and how much he needs her. I hope you liked this chapter. I hoped it wasn't too abrupt after the last one, but he just needed something to kick him in the pants :) Thanks for the review as always! xoxo

Syrena: Was I a cock block with the last chapter? Sorry for the psyche! But as I promised, the next time will be for reals, and it will be awesome (at least I hope so!). Hector's fail... that was such a hilarious way to put it. Epic fail, Hector. Epic fail! He kinda manned up this chapter even if he was getting in touch with his emotions, but hopefully you still liked it! :D

Amy: Gurrrlll you reviewed as I was proofreading the last chapter haha I was like she must be psychic and know I'm about to upload this one! After all, you have already pretty much read my mind and know where I'm going even if you don't know what the heck is going on with Aeneas... I still believe in your psychic abilities! I hope you liked this chapter, gorgeous ;)

Kawaii: Yea hormone spree. That's exactly how I wanted it to be, so I'm glad you felt it was that way. And of course Hector being a guy and kinda pushing the boundaries and then fleeing the scene when feelings came into the picture. He was a bit of a sweetie this chapter :) Thanks for continuing to read, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter xoxo