Yvette brushed her hair thoughtfully. Truly, when she'd decided to come here, it had only been to make sure her affairs were in order. She was so close to being married to one of the richest men in Cyrodiil that she could taste it. There was no way she was going to let some backwoods Nordic mistake from her past ruin it for her. Knowing Vilkas – that's exactly what he would do if he got the chance. Anything to avenge that precious pride of his.
She'd been seething about this last loose end all the way from the Imperial City, only her soon-to-be-husband's influence allowing her passage across the border to take care of a "family matter" as she had termed it. She'd barely acknowledged anyone on the entire long trip and was therefore thoroughly shocked when she bothered to glance around at the warriors of Jorrvaskr. She'd been angling for rich old men so long that she'd forgotten what a warrior looked like.
Farkas, standing before her, had been an eye-opening reminder about the men of her homeland. Piercing blue eyes and dark hair, along with a warrior's body, and the smell of man had sent a rush of heat through her body. As for Vilkas, she'd been dying to get her hands on him, since she saw his brother – she hoped he hadn't obtained any ugly scars. She shrugged lightly, oh well – as long as one part of him still worked, she didn't care – it's not like she was going to be keeping him around.
And then there was that little blonde. Yvette smiled to herself. Her tastes had developed quite a bit over the last few years and she admitted to herself with a slow smile that she'd find that little blonde's head between her thighs pleasing as well. The blonde would be having none of it though, she assumed, which left Vilkas and a competition. Yvette tapped a finger to her lips thoughtfully. If Vilkas was spending time with the blonde, they hadn't yet slept together – if they had, Yvette was sure she'd have gotten more of a reaction from last night's little display of angry wife. And if they weren't sleeping together – well then there's really no competition at all, she thought.
Knowing Vilkas, he'd been sulking around like the tortured soul he was, and the little idiot had been playing the fool trying to draw him into some happiness. Stupid! To think that a man can be handled like that – especially Vilkas. Vilkas, who loathes happiness more than death itself. Yvette stretched – it had to be close to dawn by now – this wouldn't be difficult at all. Vilkas was a man, and men had weaknesses – namely her, but in this case pride also, and it would be his downfall. With a seductive chuckle she unlaced her corset and spread it wide, baring her chest. She hiked her skirts above her waist and took a few moments to pose herself erotically on Vilkas's bed, before slipping her hand between her legs. Mm'mm . . . Vilkas, come to me.
Vilkas woke to the feel of Cyréne in his arms and a raging erection straining against his pants. He tortured himself for a few moments with thoughts of different ways to wake her that would end with him inside of her. He wondered what she would want from him. He'd observed her over the past months, enough to know that she didn't give her affections lightly. He'd never seen her be cruel in a rejection, although he had once seen her deck a mercenary that had grabbed her ass.
The one night it seemed she might take a man to her bed, Vilkas had intervened by dragging her back to Jorrvaskr with a lecture on being fit for duty the next morning – he'd then spent the night combing through piles of paper to find a suitable mission. That had been over a month ago and he'd not taken a woman since.
She'll want more from you than sex, much more. The prospect had him unsettled. Oddly, Yvette showing up and the events of the last night had set his mind at peace. Cyréne was not Yvette, she wouldn't cause him pain, and she was worthy of his love. Do I love her? Yes. Am I in love with her? He glanced down at her, breathing in her scent. Before I tell her anything, I have to deal with Yvette.
He shifted in the bed, and got up. She whimpered in protest at the loss of warmth. He busied himself around the room for a few minutes, before tucking the blankets around her and dropping a kiss on her forehead. The scent of her lured him back toward the bed and he forced himself toward the door before he could crawl between the sheets again and make love to her until she screamed his name. The thought jarred him, and he stifled a groan as he left the room.
He headed up to Jorrvaskr in the weak gray light. No one stirred inside as he padded softly through the living quarters. If Yvette had been there, there was no sign of her now. He opened the doors to his quarters and frowned. The woman on his bed was half-naked and pleasuring herself. His eyes raked across her body of their own accord and his arousal made itself known again. Her sensuous curves were on full display. Pale breasts topped with light pink nipples bounced gently with the rocking of her rounded hips. She rolled one pert nipple between her fingertips. Her other hand was between her thighs, two fingers working rhythmically in her dark curls. She arched her back and moaned his name.
He turned away, clenching his jaw, only to have her moan of pleasure reach his ears. Yvette whispered under her breath and waved her fingers sending a soft pink tendril of shimmering energy toward his back.