Lycan's Affection
Let Tonight Belong to Me

Conaan did not move, his expression stoic and set in stone as he watched Eleanor. Her eyes darted slowly across both of them, her brows raising in hopes of a response, her grip on the two dresses she had held in her hands tightening.

"Brandon? Why were you associating His Highness with death?"

Brandon swallowed as he slowly turned to meet Conaan's eyes. Conaan moved his eyes to Brandon's and he raised his brow a little higher, a silent agreement passing between them.

"Well, my queen..." he started, the lightness in his voice betraying all the tension that had been in the room just a moment ago. "I was asking him about how he intends to let you cope if he dies and leaves you behind. He is not taking care of his health anymore, and has been too concerned with the affairs of the kingdom."

Eleanor let out a small sigh. "You know His Highness. He can care for everything else but himself."

She turned to Conaan whose expression still remained the same, his eyes a little thin. Brandon swallowed, then turned to Conaan, his eyes holding meaning.

"Since she is here, I am sure...you might consider better options as regards your health."

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Eleanor nodded, walking further in. She dumped the dresses on the bed and walked back, standing over Conaan.

"Definitely. His Highness is mine to take care of. And as long as I live, I will not let His Highness depart from us."

"Even if it kills you?" Brandon asked sharply, risking Conaan's anger.

Conaan cleared his throat, and moved, but Eleanor did not seem to notice his attempt at drawing her attention.

"For His Highness, even if it will give me the most painful..."

"Eleanor." Conaan's voice was a low growl, and this time she turned to him. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes showing his apparent displeasure.

She gave a small sigh. "Fine. Not if it makes us depart from each other. Right?"

He did not reply, but Brandon gave a slow nod and walked away, his fists clenched, his shoulders slightly slumped.

A moment of silence reigned between them, before she finally gave a sigh, then turned to Conaan.

"Your Highness..."

He raised his eyes to her. "I am as healthy as ever."

"You were sick just yesterday."

"And I have recovered."

"You are to stay in bed and..."

He suddenly stood up, his thumb coming over her lips, the single round ring glistening in the burning light of the room.

"Do you perhaps remember what today is?"

Her brows furrowed. "I..."

He raised a brow to urge her to continue, but she apparently did not know. He could not blame her, though, and he dropped his finger.

"It is the fourth anniversary of the day you were to be mated to me."

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes dancing across his to see if it was a good memory for him, or not. He gave a small smile.

"Do not ruin it with your nagging."

She stayed there, speechless as he slowly walked away from her, then drew open the drapes to allow the sunlight in. She turned to him as he slowly quenched all the lights.

"Would you celebrate today?"

He looked at her. "Why not?"

She swallowed. "Well, because..."

"Do not dwell in the past so much Eleanor. We might not have a lot of future to live in."

She took in a deep breath. "That is not the best way to tell me to forget this."

"What is the best way?"

She let her eyes follow him, as he gracefully walked around, quenching the lights. Once she closed her eyes briefly, he got rid of the blood on his hands, then slowly walked back to where she was standing.

"Let me be the one to do something for you tonight, Your Highness."

He raised his eyes to meet hers, and there was determination in them. It made him almost smile, but the crushing sadness was deeper. He knew Brandon was wrong. Eleanor would not be the one to be crushed under the weight of the memories. For even in death, he knew he will remember her.

"Maybe you can start by changing what you call me?"

She gave a small laugh as he came behind her, the warmth of his body enveloping her as his hands covered her. Slowly, he moved away again, his fingers gently working through her hair, before he placed the now thornless rose within it.

She beamed a beautiful smile as she let herself lean into his warmth, her head resting on him, her eyes closed as his face nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his lips half parted and teasing her skin.

"What would you want to be called?"

He shrugged, a little intoxicated by the scent. "I do not know. Maybe my name?"

She smiled. "I find it hard to say your name. Maybe I could think of something else if it worries you that much."

He chuckled a little bit, placing a small kiss on the crook of her neck. "Whatever you want, Eleanor."

She nodded. "Let tonight belong to me. Let me do whatever I want with tonight."

He nodded, closing his eyes. "Whatever you want."

She stayed there for a bit longer, the rose in her hair, his arms around her, the dresses she had brought forgotten.

Matthew raised a brow as Alexander gave a big groan, his chest heaving with pain as he tried to sit up.

He was sweating profusely, the sweat making his hair cling to the sides of his face and forehead, the wound bandaged, yet still bleeding.

He slowly turned to Matthew as Eric helped him with a pillow, then moved away.

"Look at what that wench did to me," he said, his voice a low hiss.

Matthew let his eyes glide down to the wound, finding nothing stirring in the heart that used to hold the most compassion for his brother. Prison has probably hardened him, and he found he felt very little towards Alexander, and most of the little was negative.

"Impressive," Matthew said, with a small click of his tongue. "But she should have killed you."

"Matthew!"

"Did you finally let me see the light of the day because Eleanor had done a number on you? Because you needed someone to whine to?"

"How dare you say that to me!" Alexander yelled, grabbing the flower vase next to his right hand. He winced at the pain in his left before flinging it right at Matthew and it shattered on his forehead, barely escaping his eyes. Matthew barely flinched from the pain, his fists clenching on his thighs.

"You are my little brother and I have done everything to protect you! Everything to make sure you are safe!"

"In prison!" Matthew said, blood running down his face. "How dare you talk about protecting me?"

"You aligned with my enemies! You chose to side with the whore that almost killed your brother. You deserve to rot in hell and dungeon and eveywhere despicable for that betrayal, but I keep offering you mercy!"

Matthew swallowed, his eyes meeting Alexander's. "What are you waiting for, then?"

Alexander stayed silent for a tense moment, his chest heaving.

"I am waiting for you to admit to your treason, Matthew. You and that sly bastard over there, Eric are the ones who betrayed me and put me in this spot. You both are the reason Anderson's soldiers were not there, the reason Eleanor got the chance to handicap me! You betrayed your own brother!"

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