Lycan's Affection

"Good morning, my lady. His Highness has requested for you to come to the dining hall immediately."

Eleanor tried closing her eyes tighter. She wasn't sure she wanted to see Conaan this morning. It would be a little too much. She brought the covers to her head, then sighed, her eyes opening in defeat.

"My lady?"

"I did not get any sleep last night. I will eat later."

The lycan omega waited a bit at the door, almost hesitant to tell Conaan the same thing she had been told. When Eleanor did not budge, she gave a small sigh, then slowly walked out of the room.

"Your highness?"

Conaan only gave an acknowledging nod.

"She said would like to sleep some more and postpone breakfast to a later time."

Conaan said nothing, and she backed away. Without a word, he straightened, and started to eat slowly. The table was vast, can occupy fifty people, but he always used it alone.

He ate slowly, his mind blank. It was his own escape, his own way of not acknowledging anything at all. And mostly, it worked, it always did.

"Good morning."

He stopped, then slowly looked up. Eleanor was standing on the side of the table next to him, her eyes still a bit hesitant. Like she was wondering if she had made a good decision coming down afterall.

He did not reply, and simply went back to eating. She gave a small sigh and sat on the first seat on the right, closest to him. For a few minutes, it was silent, and only Conaan's cutleries grazed the plate.

"Did you sleep well?"

She nodded. "Yes. I hope you did too."

He looked up, meeting her eyes. She immediately looked away, staring at the food like it was some kind of tale. He never looked away, just watched her like he was seeing her for the first time.

"Don't look at me like that, Conaan. I already feel guilty enough."

He sighed, then leaned back on the chair. Slowly, he reached for the band holding his hair up in a bun, then moved his fingers, pushing it out of the folds of long hair. He released it, and his hair came falling down, across the scarred eye. It did well to cover it, and he looked back up to her.

"You should feel better now."

She swallowed, weirdly feeling even worse. "Hiding it does not change the fact that it is there."

He gave a small smile. "Is this how you express guilt? By taking it out on me?"

He leaned back again, relaxing his body on the chair. This time, he looked at her in an unwavering gaze.

"Then what should I do? Did you do this so you could keep me here? Torture me or have me feel guilty about being in love?"

He snickered then shook his head, bringing the glass of wine to his lips. "Love?"

She swallowed. "I and Alexander.. What we share..."

He started to nod. "Definitely. The fairytale. And yes, Eleanor. You are right. I brought you here to torture you. But I won't be the one to do it."

Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He gave a small shrug. "I did tell you to get ready to be sent back tomorrow, did I not?"

He stood up, slowly adjusting his robe around him.

"Are you really taking me back to Xander?"

The excitement in her voice annoyed him, and he swallowed, his fists clenching. "Yes."

"With no conditions, are you really letting me go? Are you going to let me be with the man I love?"

He felt the emotions choking down on his throat. They were the emotions that made him do bad things, the ones that painted him in darker colours, and he hated to be that way in front of her.

"Have a bit of decency and do not say that in front of me."

Eleanor swallowed, flinching a little at the coldness in his voice. "I am sorry. I just..Alexander means so much to..."

"I said do not mention him in front of me!" Conaan suddenly yelled, his hand sweeping across the table, his visible eyes wide with feral anger. "Have you been fair to me? Are you being fair to me? What am I to you? What do you take me for?"

Eleanor's eyes widened at his sudden outburst, her lips parting, but no words could come out of it. She dropped her hands, her eyes filling with years.

"Conaan."

He closed his eyes, then raised his head slightly. "Eleanor, this is a promise. Whatever happens tomorrow. What ever you see tomorrow, I do not have a place for you anymore. No matter what happens, you will not be coming home with me."

Eleanor swallowed. It felt like a threat, like he knew she would need to come home with him. And when she needed him, he would leave her. Like she had done to him. Like she had willingly left him out in the cold.

Without another word, he walked away, as three servants came to clean up the mess on the floor.

Conaan sat on the thick rug on the balcony, his eyes fixed on the distant setting sun. He had been like that for hours, his chest hurting from his own anger. He rarely ever felt that much anger, and most times, he ended it with truimph. But with Eleanor, he could never win.

He would never forget that night, right after discussing taking her hand in marriage with the beta, her father. She had been revealed as his mate in the clear waters, and he was doing exactly what tradition had ordained of him.

But he, Conaan, had always hoped she would be his mate. From the time he had found in that serene forest, hunting prey. Her hair flying with the wind, her lips slightly parted. She had become the object of his dreams, and then later, the object of his nightmares.

He closed his eyes, then let out a shaky breath. Seeing her wrecked the way she had wrecked him would be perfect. And tomorrow...tomorrow he would watch it with glee.