Lycan's Affection
Moonlight's Sin

Brandon stood overlooking the lake that bordered the royal gardens, his eyes a little sad. He could see the elegant preparations made therein by Eleanor, and her silhouette as she waited patiently. Small sounds of feet jolted him back to reality, and he turnd, his brows furrowed.

"It is just me."

Brandon sighed. "Your Highness. You look heavenly."

Conaan gave a small smile as he came next to Brandon, his hands behind him. "She sent for me. Apparently, she intends to own tonight."

"Your Highness..."

"She and I..." Conaan said, squinting a little. The view wwas ethereal, the round glow of the moon touching the lake. Like a little sinful, delicate caress. "She and I...without the words, we have decided to not stop till we both crash. I believe we drive each other to an insane sort of pleasure, and if that crash is my death..."

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"Youe Highness..."

Conaan smiled again, his eyes twinkling. "So be it, Brandon."

Brandon took in a deep breath. "Never in my life did I think that I would have to choose between Your Highness and Eleanor."

Conaan shrugged. "Look at her. So beautiful, Brandon. So...perfect. She brings me alive. Do you think she should die?"

Brandon closed his eyes, a single tear rolling off his cheek.

"You are my brother. And to choose me is to choose Eleanor, even if the other option is me."

Bramdon closed his eyes even tighter. "I shall not see you die, Your Highness. I shall not bury you."

Conaan chuckled, slowly turning away. "You shall not bury me, brother."

Brandon almost held on to him, almost asked him not to leave, but he only gave a small, wistfully hopeful smile as Conaan turned away.

Eleanor sighed as she adjusted her sitting position one more time, a little anxious. She fixed the spread in front of her, ran her fingers through her deep curls and made sure they covered her back.

She was still a little sore from the writing, but it was worth it, she knew it would be. She sighed again, just as the small shuffle of feet woke her back up.

She raised her brows as she turned towards the only walkway. It was above the lake, a solid concrete stone path she had gotten illuminated on each side of the lake by floating lamps burning in incense.

She had put a lot of work into it, the lamps floating on the lake, lighting up their own reflection.

Slowly, but surely, Conaan's shadow started to descend on the illuminated lake. She held her breath, her hand tight in each other as she watched him.

He had worn a blood red robe that was designed like a cape, the elegant embroidery bordering the collar and the large sleeves. His hair was let loose, the shiny black illuminated by the moonlight, his eyes reflecting the sheen.

She swallowed hard, her eyes rarely blinking and he came closer, a small elegant smile lighting his eyes up.

"My love," she breathed as she stood, forfeiting the sitting position she had tried so hard to perfect and ran straight up to him, her dark red curls bounding down her now tattooed back.

"This is beautiful," he said, his hand cradling her hair, his face turning in to place a small kiss on her cheek, her hands enveloping him.

"Which one? Me or this place?"

She moved away, her hand still holding on to his, her breath catching slightly in her throat. Something about tonight made his eyes a lot more heavenly, his body even more beautiful.

He'd put on a show of skin for her, and she appreciated it, yet wanted more.

"I would say everything."

She beamed. "Come."

He let her lead him, and she let him sit opposite her, the spread between them. From his favorite wine down to his favorite cutlery, every single thing was in place.

He gave a small smile. "Seeing this, if I had bet on how much you knew me, I would have probably lost."

She shrugged, trying to mask her eagerness to show him her nape, her anxiety, and the effects he let her body experience.

"Well, I do pay attention. I know food is not your favorite pastime. You prefer the humans' wine and you never drink anything hot. You like ice and strawberries and flavored shavings and...." She trailed off, then lifted her eyes to him. He was now rested, his hand on the pillow, his long fingers dangling off it.

"Go on."

She chuckled. "I just realized it is everything I like."

He gave a lopsided smile. "What a coincidence." He picked a strawberry, then slowly pushed it past his lips.

Eleanor's eyes glided down to them, her mouth suddenly running dry. She closed her eyes and shook her head, willing for it to go away.

"Why do I not believe such coincidence?"

He laughed. "Well. Whatever you want."

She slowly straightened, then met his eyes. "My love."

He looked up from the spread, his eyes darkening. Her voice was soft, and he gave a little nod, asserting her statement. "Yes. I am the one you love."

"And...I want to be overt with that."

His brows furrowed. "How so?"

She sucked in her lower lip, then turned slowly, her eyes lowering. She crossed her legs over each other and swallowed hard again, her chest heaving.

"My hair."

He said nothing, but she felt him move, felt his heat warm her up as he came behind her and leaned to her height.

Slowly, his fingers reached for the outer strands of her hair, then gently, with his fingers teasing the skin he now found to be left conveniently bare by the silk dress she was wearing, he pushed the hair away.

It fell in front of her shoulder, and he stopped, his eyes widening a little.

Right below the nape of her neck, in elegant cursive in the fleur handwriting, was his name.

"Eleanor..."

"I wanted to mark myself for you. It just felt perfect on my skin. Your name on my skin, like your hands in mine, or your lips..."

She suddenly trailed off, the words stifled down and shattered into beautiful kisses, his hand cupping the nape of her neck like he sought to protect her own mark.

She broke away first, breathless, her chest heaving. He was in front of her, his fingers trailing the skin of her face, his eyes following his own fingers.

"It's been four years. You still take my breath away just the same."

She swallowed. "I am glad."

She let her fingers trail the bare skin under the loose collar, drawing out a shaky breath from him, her own hands trembling to his heat.

She let her fingers trail down his neck, like he was Braille and she was blind. Her fingers read his skin in a million beautifully sinful ways, a million ways that felt absolutely right.

And slowly, she let her hand stop on his chest, his heart pulsating under her fingers, her eyes watching it.

It fell into beautiful harmony, a perfect sync.

He watched her, his eyes keen, marveled, awed.

Slowly, without a word, she covered the distance again, her lips seeking his own. Never had he felt so wanted, so needed, the desperation in her kisses driving his own, the need that boiled in her blood setting his on fire.

He let her drive him crazy to the edges, her kisses swearing a bond to seal under the moonlight and a thousand floating lamps.

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