"Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so." - David Grayson

Kalv was smiling when he opened his eyes. His body ached in ways he didn't know possible – all of them good. The woman beside him let out a breathy little sleep-filled sigh and his cock twitched. He'd never been more sated in his life.

Talos bless her luscious body and those magic fingers of hers.

At one point she'd given his balls a little zap of sparks that resulted in such a strong orgasm he'd YOL TOOR SHUL'd and nearly burnt the place down around them. He gathered her to him and began kissing her neck, smiling as she made a sweet noise and hunched her shoulders away from him. He nuzzled her cheek gently and rolled her onto her back. Positioning himself over her, he rolled one dusky nipple between his fingertips and latched his mouth over the other. She moaned and arched towards him. Her eyes opened slightly.

"Good morning, Cyréne," he murmured.

She smiled, almost shyly, "Good morning."

A moment later she gasped from the delicious suction of his mouth. He smiled and trailed kisses further south. Cyréne went absolutely wild when his mouth found its destination.

"Gods, you taste sweet," he praised.

She thought she had reached her peak, then he gave her most sensitive spot a gentle suck and whispered against her almost silently "fus". Cyréne came absolutely unhinged.

Later she sighed his name in new throws of passion, and he groaned in response.

"Gods woman, just my name on your lips nearly drives me to my release."

"Find it then," she breathed shakily.

"Ladies first, Love" he grinned.

Many pleasurable hours later, Kalv traced invisible lines across her ribcage as she slept wrapped in his arms. What could she desire? Jewels, riches, fine houses? All he would give to her gladly. He smiled to himself picturing her draped across his bed in fine silk. Would she prefer adventures, or rare treasures and fine weapons? Perhaps she had enemies in need of slaying . . . the thought gave him pause and his arms tightened around her protectively. And suddenly, I find myself wrapped around your magical little finger, Sweetroll.

Vilkas wandered aimlessly around Jorrvaskr well into the afternoon. He destroyed several training dummies and still growled in frustration. Cyréne was still in town, as far as he knew, but she'd all but refused to look at him last night, and he hadn't pressed her.

"It's not like we've even been together,' he growled to himself. "It's ridiculous."

"What is?"

Vilkas rolled his eyes at the sound of his brother's voice. "I don't want to talk about it, Farkas"

"If 'it' is supposed to be Cyréne, I agree with you," Farkas said.

Vilkas looked at him, unsure, "You do?"

"Yes. If Cyréne is nothing more than a shield-sister to you, then you shouldn't be so upset."

"Aye" Vilkas nodded.

"But you are upset."

"Aye" he said again.

"Brother, you cannot have missed that Cyréne has feelings for you."

Vilkas smiled in spite of himself, but then his face grew dark. "But I did miss it, Farkas, and now it's too late."

"It's not too late."

"She saw me with Yvette"

"She'll forgive you."

"Why should she?"

"I didn't say she should," Farkas said impatiently, "I said she would. Why were you with Yvette anyway, Vilkas?"

Vilkas scowled, "What do you mean? She's beautiful, you've seen her."

"Yes . . . I've also met her."

"Well, maybe if you walked into your room to find her pleasuring herself on your bed, you'd reconsider."

Farkas shook his head. "What's the truth?"

Vilkas sighed dejectedly. "I don't know, I was walking away from her and . . ." he shook his head. "I was angry, she used it to manipulate me."

"If you don't learn to control it, Brother, that anger will cause you to lose everything."

Farkas looked up to see Cyréne walking across the training yard, and jerked his head toward her. Vilkas took a deep breath and approached her slowly. Farkas watched his brother's posture stiffen in aggression as he got closer to Cyréne. That's not good.

Their exchange started off smoothly, but went downhill quickly.

"I wasn't aware I owed you an explanation for my actions, Whelp!" Vilkas barked.

"Me? You think my jealousy is what's wrong here? Vilkas, I thought—"

"You thought what, Cyréne?"

Farkas came to stand behind Cyréne and put a hand on her shoulder. "What's going on, Brother?" he asked pointedly.

"Cyréne is trying to explain to me why I owe her an explanation about who I bed," Vilkas sneered.

Farkas's jaw clenched and he gave his brother a hard look.

Cyréne tried again, "I'm sorry Vilkas," she said softly. She looked up at him, but he was looking at his brother. "Perhaps, I have no right, but I don't want you to get hurt—"

"Then you should spend more time on your training and stop imagining relationships that aren't there."

Cyréne stepped back as though she'd been struck and prayed to eight of the divines that Vilkas would walk away before she broke down.

Farkas turned her toward him and pulled her to his chest. "Just leave, Vilkas," he said quietly.

Cyréne heard the sound of heavy footsteps and the slamming of a door.

"He's gone," Farkas said gently. Cyréne's shoulders shook. Farkas sighed and held her close, saying nothing.

After a few moments Cyréne looked up at him, eyes wet. "What happened?" she asked miserably. "I couldn't have misunderstood . . . everything?"

Farkas cursed his brother silently and placed a chaste kiss on Cyréne's forehead. "You didn't."

"Then what happened?"

Farkas opened his mouth to answer her, but was cut short by Vilkas storming back into the training yard.

Cyrene motioned for him to leave them, and he gave her a quick squeeze and headed inside, shooting Vilkas a warning look on the way.

Vilkas approached her, sword drawn. "Arm yourself!" he snarled.

"No."

He slung his sword to the ground, "Fine, without weapons then."

Cyréne's temper flared. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Vilkas?"

"Nothing that another bedding of my lovely ex-wife can't fix."

Cyréne paled. "I apologized for overstepping my bounds, there's no need to be cruel."

"Cruel? You would monitor even my words now?"

Cyréne bit back her anger. "Stop playing games, Vilkas. You must know that I care for you, even if you don't return my feel—"

"I don't," he said coldly

"You . . .don't?"

"I don't"

"You're a liar!" she growled.

"What did you call me?" Vilkas's eyes flashed.

"I said you're a gods damned liar" she said, refusing to be intimidated. "Why are you acting this way?"

"I can smell him on you, Cyréne!" Vilkas snarled.

She faltered and took a step back, "What?" she whispered.

Vilkas advanced on her, furious. "I can smell him all over you, in you –it's like I'm there! So don't tell me you have feelings."

Cyréne's eyes darkened and she shoved him. "Let me get this straight," she said, voice laced with anger, "I find you dick-deep in that poisonous bitch not an hour after you left our bed, and you have the BALLS to bring me to heel for a drunken fuck with the savior of the world?! You arrogant son—"

Vilkas grabbed her arms and jerked her up violently, "I said I can smell him on you Cyréne. You weren't drunk an hour ago."

"And you weren't drunk at all"

Vilkas's grip on her arms tightened painfully and she relented. "Please, Vilkas, don't do this to us. People make mistakes. That's all this was, us making mistakes."

"I didn't make a mistake," he said coldly, dropping her arms.

"Vilkas, I . . . . I love you" she whispered fiercely, "What can I do to make this right between us?" She reached for him, but he slapped her hands away.

"You can stay away from my brother."

The implication hit her like a punch in the gut. "Don't you dare, you son of a bitch. I would NEVER—"

"You were in his arms moments ago, or have you been with so many men lately you can't remember."

"You know that's not true," she said softly

"Not yet – how do I know who you'll spread your legs for next?"

Cyréne was beside herself. She shoved him again and snarled in his face "I'll tell you how you'll know, you arrogant piece of shit. You'll hear the Thu'um when I bring him pleasure and you'll smell it all over me, because I'm going to let him do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, as many times as he wants and I'm going to enjoy every second of it!"

Vilkas slapped her before he knew what he was doing, "Whore!"

"Coward!" she spat back, holding her cheek. Her eyes welled with tears.

The wolf snarled furiously, snapping at Vilkas with teeth bared. Look at her! Even now her eyes beg you to stop. Even now she'll forgive you.

Then I haven't hurt her as much as she's hurt me.

"Maybe you'll be able to stop yourself from leading the Dragonborn to his death."

Cyréne's voice was low and dangerous, "If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for that."

The wolf whined and stepped back.

"You could try, but you'll find I won't go as willingly to my death as Caldor."

Pain and betrayal cut through her like a razor. No one would speak of Caldor that way! No one! The snap of her restraint echoed like an explosion in Cyréne's mind. Any love she harbored for Vilkas went cold. She advanced on him, blind with rage. A snarl ripped from her throat. Her lips were thinned, her teeth barred like an animal's. Some things were unforgivable. A bright light shot from her hand and a wave of sickening fear hit Vilkas. There was a moment where she went from being Cyréne – his beautiful, angry, hurt, human Cyréne – to something different. Her eyes were wild. What have I done you, Love? I'm sorry! Then there was a sound like thunder and he felt his body lurch as time slowed down. She was on him in an instant.

It was happening so slowly, yet it was happening so fast. He was in his body, he was out of it. There was a dagger, a searing pain, hot light, cold words. Everything was clear, yet his brain couldn't make sense of it. But there was Cyréne, and her eyes were wrong, and everything was moving in slow motion. Then the forces of Nirn were back under their own control and she was gone.

Vilkas fell forward, almost sick, as his body slammed back into time and everything that had just happened rushed in on him at once. An anguished cry he recognized as his own broke the air, and his hand flew to his side. It came back covered in blood, even as the golden light of a healing spell swirled around him and the wound closed. His brain finished processing her words and he finally heard them as though she were still there.

"You get on your knees and thank Hircine that he owns your soul, because if he didn't, I would rip it from your body."

The dagger, covered in his blood lay on the ground in front of him. When he realized it was silver, he vomited.

The wolf raised his muzzle to the sky and howled.