Sunlight stabs through the window like an accusation, exposing every sin from last night that darkness had mercifully hidden. I pull the blanket tighter around my naked body, creating a pathetic fortress of cotton against the reality waiting beyond.
"Rise and shine, Saint," Skara's voice cuts through my cocoon of shame. "We've got a long journey ahead."
I burrow deeper under the covers. "Leave me alone."
My head throbs with each heartbeat, a pulsing reminder of whatever drug she slipped into our food. Fragments of last night flash through my mind, things I did, things I begged for, each memory making me want to disappear further into this blanket until I cease to exist entirely.
"Come on now," she says, her tone somewhere between amused and impatient. "Don't be dramatic."
"Dramatic?" I spit the word from beneath my shelter. "You drugged me. That's rape, Skara."
The mattress dips as she sits on the edge of the bed. "I drugged us both. And you certainly didn't seem to mind at the time."
"That's how drugs work," I hiss, anger momentarily overriding my humiliation. "They make you do things you'd never do otherwise."
Without warning, she yanks the blanket off me, exposing my naked body to the cold morning air. I instinctively curl into myself, but not before seeing her wild blue eyes sweep over me with predatory appreciation.
"Is the Saint embarrassed he made such a big mess on my feet last night?" she asks, her lips curving into a knowing smile.
My face burns with such intense heat I'm surprised the pillow beneath my cheek doesn't catch fire. I've never blushed this hard in my life, the shame so complete it feels like a physical weight pressing down on me.
"Fuck you," I manage, the words lacking any real bite behind my mortification.
Skara laughs, the sound rich and unsettlingly musical coming from someone who could snap my spine without breaking a sweat. "You already did that. Several times, in fact." She stretches, her muscled arms flexing above her head. "And my armpit, if I recall correctly."
I want to die. Right here. Right now. Just spontaneously combust and be done with it all.
Before I can bury myself back under the covers, Skara's hand shoots out like a striking snake. She grabs my wrist with bruising force, yanking me upright. The curse activates instantly, locking my muscles in place as she drags me closer until our faces are inches apart.
"Stop hiding," she growls, but there's something different in her eyes now, a gleam that wasn't there before. Something hungry and possessive that goes beyond mere lust or even the wild frenzy of last night's drug-fueled madness.
My stomach drops as I recognize that look. It's the same intense fixation I saw developing in Mirelle's eyes over our weeks together. That same unsettling obsession that grew stronger each time she used the curse on me.
Oh god. The modification that makes people obsess over me when they violate me. It's happening again.
I think back to what the system told me: "Those who violate you now have a slightly higher chance of developing an obsessive attachment." Mirelle definitely fell victim to it, growing more possessive and unhinged each day. And now, judging by that manic gleam in Skara's eyes, she's falling under its influence too.
"Last night," Skara whispers, her breath hot against my face, "was the most incredible night of my life." Her fingers dig deeper into my wrist, her pupils dilating as she stares at me like I'm some precious treasure she's discovered. "You were incredible."
"Fuck," I breathe, the single syllable containing all my dread and resignation.
Skara's expression shifts suddenly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. She releases my wrist and instead cups my chin with surprising gentleness, her calloused fingers barely grazing my skin. I'm already frozen from her touch, the curse making sure I can't pull away as her wild blue eyes search my face.
"What's wrong, Sam?" she asks, her voice softer than I've ever heard it. "You look... afraid."
I swallow hard, weighing my words carefully. This might be my only chance to make her understand what's happening.
"It's the curse," I explain, watching her reaction closely. "There's something I didn't tell you about it. When someone violates me, it has a chance of causing them to become obsessed with me."
Skara's face remains still for a moment before breaking into a laugh that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "That's simply not true," she says, shaking her head. "Velthara's curse causes obedience, not obsession in others. Like I said, it’s well documented."
I sigh deeply, the weight of futility settling over me. Of course, she wouldn't believe me.
"You're not obsessed with me?" I challenge, holding her gaze despite the awkwardness of my naked, paralyzed state.
She stares at me, something flickering in those wild blue eyes. Her throat works as she swallows, and she clears it with a small cough before answering.
Of course not," she says, but her voice lacks conviction.
Her eyes tell a different story entirely. I recognize that look now, the same intense, almost reverent gaze Mirelle developed over time. It's the look of someone falling into the deep end. The curse has already sunk its hooks into her.
"So you're still willing to give me up to the church?" I press, watching her carefully. "For your old position as a Holy Knight? That was the whole point of kidnapping me, right?" Read full story at NoveI[F]ire.net
Skara takes a long, slow blink, her fingers still holding my chin. When her eyes open again, they're clouded with indecision.
"Well," she says finally, "let's just take everything one day at a time. The journey to the Holy Kingdom is long. There's no need to rush decisions."
My heart sinks. That's exactly what I was afraid of. The obsession is already taking root, making her reconsider her original plan.
"Look, Skara," I say, my voice taking on an urgent edge. "Your feelings aren't real. They're manufactured by the curse. This isn't you, it's magic manipulating your emotions."
The change in Skara is instantaneous and terrifying. Her face contorts, twisting into something barely human as her grip tightens painfully on my chin. Those wild blue eyes narrow to dangerous slits.
"Don't you fucking dare," she snarls, her voice dropping to a guttural growl that raises every hair on my body. "You think you know what's happening in my head better than I do?"
She yanks my face closer, her nose nearly touching mine. The curse keeps me frozen, unable to pull away as spittle hits my cheek with each word.
"I know what's real, Sam," she hisses, her pupils dilating until her eyes are mostly black. "I've fought demons that tried to twist my mind. I've had my soul violated by creatures you couldn't comprehend."
Her free hand shoots up, grabbing a fistful of my hair and wrenching my head back until my neck strains painfully. I catch a glimpse of her face, the same manic intensity I saw when she cleaved that woman in half at the guild. The same person who killed someone for spilling a drink is now holding me at her mercy.
"You think a little curse is manipulating me?" she continues, her voice rising with each word. "I was purified by the church's highest priests! I've felt my soul burned clean by holy fire!"
She releases my hair with such force that my head snaps forward. The room spins around me as she stands, her naked body vibrating with barely contained rage. Her muscles tense and flex beneath her skin as she paces like a caged animal.
"I don't need some man telling me what I feel," she spits, each word like a dagger. "Especially not one who spent last night worshipping every inch of my body."
I want to speak, to defend myself, but terror freezes my tongue even without the curse's help. This isn't just anger, this is something deeper, more unhinged. Whatever demon possessed her in the past has left permanent scars on her psyche.
I've clearly hit a nerve. Skara's entire body has transformed into a weapon of rage, muscles coiled and ready to strike. Her wild blue eyes lock onto mine with such intensity that I can't look away, like prey hypnotized by a predator. For a terrifying moment, I'm certain she's going to hurt me, really hurt me.
Then something changes in her expression. Her head snaps toward the window, her entire body suddenly alert in a different way. She tilts her head slightly, listening.
A bone-chilling roar tears through the morning air, so powerful it rattles the window glass. The sound is unlike anything I've ever heard, part animal, part something else entirely, deep and guttural with an unnatural edge that makes my blood run cold.
In an instant, Skara's demeanor transforms completely. The rage vanishes, replaced by something equally primal but entirely different, protectiveness. She lunges forward, positioning herself between me and the window with such speed I barely register the movement. Her muscled body forms a living shield, her stance wide and balanced despite her nakedness.
“What is it?”
"I don’t know," she growls, her voice low and deadly, "but it picked a bad time to come looking for trouble."