Lycan's Affection
Fury

The tension seemed to heighten as Conaan fixed his bow, then slowly pulled an arrow from behind him. Eleanor gave a small chuckle as she settled even further onto their unlikely embrace, her eyes settling on the large glass behind them.

It reflected off the servants whom she had her back to, and the sun. She gave a small sigh as Conaan moved a bit.

"Ready," he whispered, and she turned, her eyes meeting his.

"Ready."

They could hear in the distance as the servant ran around, circling the sandy arena in dizzying consistency, the apple strapped tightly to his head.

Conaan moved a little, his eyes taking in all of her face for a brief moment, before he finally leaned further. Her eyes struggled to stay open as his lips lightly brushed hers, causing her to move back a bit, her eyes widening.

He gave a small laugh as he broke away, his brow raising in a mischievous manner.

She gave him a look, then moved further. This time, clipping her fingers in his collar as she pulled him to her, breaking his stance.

He did not seem to mind however, as he let her do it, her lips taking his first this time. She struggled to break her hand free, and once it was, she cupped his face, keeping him in place, his eyes, ever so willingly, drifted to a close.

For a few seconds, all the servants had their backs turned to them, before the unmistakeable sound of an arrow was heard, swishing right through the air.

Eleanor didn't stop, even as Conaan lowered his bow, his hand gently cupping her waist.

"Perfect aim!" Came the yell from the only servant allowed to look, and Conaan snickered against her lips.

"Thank goodness I get to serve my baby apples."

She broke away, flushed, her breath all over the place. She turned, her eyes wide, only to see the apple split in half on the floor, the servant it had been strapped on standing close by.

She turned to him. "How do I know Brandon didn't do it for you?"

He laughed. "You can always ask me to kiss you anytime, Eleanor."

She went even redder, her hand gently slapping across his chest playfully. "Stop it," she said, bringing her hands to her cheeks, like massaging them would make the blush go away.

Without a word, Conaan pulled another arrow, then adjusted his aim, pulling Eleanor even closer to him.

This time, she wrapped her arms around him, snuggling into his warmth. His head rested on her shoulders, his face nuzzled into her neck as he placed small, genuinely toe curling kisses on her neck.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered against her neck, as the next arrow flew past, cutting the apple.

"Perfect aim!"

"Why should I? This is my favorite place to be."

Another arrow, another shot, another perfect aim.

"I happen to know...a place."

She opened her eyes, watching the glass. It was rather amusing. How all the servants had their backs to them, but it was obvious they knew exactly what was going on.

"A place?" She asked, her voice lightly penetrating the fifth yell.

"It is a really private chamber of mine. Probably designed for the forbidden." He snickered.

"And that is what you intend to use it for."

He laughed. "Arrows are meant to be shot."

She laughed, diverting her gaze back to the glass, her eyes squinting a little against the sun.

"Perfect aim!" It was the seventh one, and she snickered, knowing very well she had lost the bet already.

"Ensure my gift awaits me in there, and that the mood is right."

She shook her head, about to come up with a reply, when her eyes caught a movement in the glass.

One of the servants, carefully hidden by the hoards of servants had turned, and he was facing them directly.

"Co...Conaan?"

"Hm?" He replied, turning to her.

Before she could say anything, she watched as the servant pulled out a foldable bow from his robe. He looked efficiently disguised as a food carrier, and without skipping a beat, he pushed the arrow in.

"Conaan?" She said again, this time stopping his last aim as he turned to her, the arrow he had pulled for his last shot never making it to the bow.

"Is something..."

She did not wait. She could see him in the mirror, the smile lifting up his lips as he tightened his grip, aiming right for Conaan's neck.

The rush of adrenaline made the decisions for her even before her rationality could, and she turned, just as he let go of the arrow, and it glided dangerously, swiftly through the air.

In a heartbeat, Eleanor moved to Conaan's side where the arrow was coming to, her hand reaching for it.

Her breath faltered as the arrow stopped barely between her index and middle fingers, the sharp edge only half an inch away from her eye.

"Eleanor!" Conaan said, his bow falling off, as he looked up to where the arrow had come from.

The servant retreated, then turned and broke into a run, dumping the arrows and the extra clothes he had used for disguise.

Without thinking, Conaan grabbed the arrow that was lodged between Eleanor's fingers and broke into a run after him.

The servant was fast, Conaan was faster, the guards and Brandon running behind them as some went to Eleanor.

Soon enough, the servant was tqckled to his feet, and Conaan got on top of him.

The hits came fast and precise, the man's face breaking with each new, powerful, rage filled punch.

"Your Highness!" Brandon said, watching the gory sight.

Conaan was too far off to hear, as he grabbed the arrow, then proceeded to lodge it into every bit of available skin, blood splashing through to stain his face, and his black archery suit.

"Your Highness!" Brandon said again, then hurriedly went behind Conaan, pulling him off the now dead and almost mutilated servant.

"Your Highness. Please, calm down. I will get to the bottom of..."

His words stopped in his throat as Conaan's bloodied hand came in contact with his face, slapping him hard, till he swerved violently to the left.

"How many times have you told me that? Everything here is under your watch and you still let people get into my palace, my home! How dare you tell me you are going to take care of it again?! How am I supposed to trust you?"

Brandon swallowed, his eyes blinking as he slowly turned to Conaan, his eyes low.

"Your Highness. I apologize, but...the servant most likely came in a disguise and..."

"Shut it," Conaan said, his breaths heavy, his chest heaving. "What are all the soldiers for? The guards around me? What is the use of it all if Eleanor is going to have an arrow right in front of her eye in our home?" His voice went low, like he dreaded to know.

Brandon swallowed as Eleanor got to them, her eyes wide at the scene in front of her. He bit down on his lips, cowering in front of Conaan's anger.

Conaan rarely ever got so angry with him, and today, he knew he had been a little too careless, maybe because he was too preoccupied with Anderson.

"I apologize. I swear, I did not expect that anyone would have the guts to come into the palace."

Conaan watched him, his lips half parted, his chest heaving. Without another word, he threw the arrow he was still holding to the floor, then walked away, brushing Brandon out of the way.