I pause at the door, my hand extended for the doorknob. 

What am I doing? This is my chance to get out. Don't I want to be healthier? Don't I want someone who treats me like an equal? My inner self is unshamed as he happily gestures me to the door while my mental state tells me we can be happy with someone else. 

I shake my head at myself and open the door, getting ahead of myself. I don't know if he wants anything to do with me; with my luck, he probably isn't here. My eyes quickly glance around the room, my heart pounds, but I don't see him. Exhaling in relief, I close the door behind me, unbuttoning my vest and kicking off my boots. 

I haven't even gotten the chance to explore since I was put in here when I was unconscious. 

I slide my feet out of my boots and set them aside, removing my vest and hanging it up. 

Why am I still wearing this thing? 

The oversized, worn-out leather seems to be nearing the end of its days. It has scuffs and worn-through parts, and the edges have become soft and light. Some stitching threatens to give way; maybe it's time to retire it. I allow my mind to wander, a hint of pride creeping into the back of my mind. It was the longest I've ever been 'alone.' 

I'm becoming okay with myself, getting to know myself. As I unbutton the formal shirt and slip it off, I wish I had gotten a chance to grab more from the Citadel; Ziduri lacks comfortable clothes. This is usually when I reflect, talk to my imaginary Alpha, and hope for guidance. 

"I guess you were just human all along." 

War changes us all, and I can't help but wonder if Hayrek is right. Perhaps I'm being too harsh? I slide the shirt off, looking at the glass wall that reflects into the room. The person looking back deserves to be loved, right? 

Ugh, I need a shower. 

I pace towards the bathroom, the cool marble tiles sending a cold chill up my spine. This whole place is just one significant expense; I grumble as I step through the doorway and about jump out of my skin when I see he's here. 

He's clothed in the tub, asleep, or passed out. A bottle sits in his lap and appears to be pretty much empty. I should have known he'd be here, though, if I recall, I wasn't a fan of his drinking last time. I reach over to turn the shower on and find a bit of delight as he startles awake. The truly exasperated expression, coupled with the drunken scrambling, amused me as I cut the water back off and crossed my arms over my chest.

 "I thought you were getting a drink, not visiting me. You made clear how you felt in the war room." I tell him. 

Verando blinks up at me; those light eyes are misty and red from the alcohol. He looks around and pushes some stray hair out of his face. 

"I guess I did end up here... old habits die hard." He grumbles, and I stand aside as he crawls out of the tub, falls out, and flops on the floor. 

Rolling my eyes, I consider helping him up. "Why in the tub? Must you be entirely inconvenient?"

"I was hot... I unno. Seemed like a good idea at the time." He pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to get his bearings. 

"Well, get up; I'm not quite in the mood to deal with you right now," I demand, finding my fire again. I remind myself of the day's events to recharge my frustrations.

He sits up and uses the tub to stand. I don't remember him being this drunk before, at least before he could walk and seemed pretty sure of himself. This is ridiculous. 

"What were you thinking of, getting hammered like this?! You know everyone and their damn brother is out to get you, and you put yourself at risk?" I don't want to sound like his mother or like I care, but he is supposed to be leading people by example, and he's trashed.  "What will everyone think to see you come apart like this? Get a grip."

Verando doesn't give me the look I'm expecting; he just carefully rotates himself to sit on the tub's edge and stabilize himself for a moment. "Let them think what they're going to; I'm not fit for caring anymore." 

I stare at him, bewildered. "Verando, seriously. This is pathetic. This is what you chose to give up over?"

"Yeah. It is." He stands up, stumbling past me, but I put my hand on his chest and stop him. The smell of alcohol is overwhelming. This is not my warlord. 

"You don't get to do this. You don't get to... give up! I understood.. eventually.. after you killed my parents. There were so many things I wanted to say to you, so many things that you pushed me on when I wanted to jump out that damned window and end it. " 

I stop myself, feeling my emotions bubbling up. I've never confronted him about this, and we've never discussed this side of our relationship. 

"I didn't ask for this, I didn't ask to fall for you and to care about you. You must take responsibility for this.. for me.. because I don't think I can ever forgive you if you walk away. You never mentioned you had a wife, Verando." I shake my head, with a ragged sigh, searching over his expression that seems to hide everything and tell nothing. 

Even drunk, he gave away no secrets. 

"You don't get to do this. You don't get to check out, leaving me here to do this alone." I grab his face firmly. My heart is pounding in my chest as I search his icy gaze; his lips parted, his cheeks red from the alcohol. He smells strongly of rum; it'd almost be offensive if I weren't so desperate to be near him again. 

Hovering my lips over his, I can't help but tempt myself to skirt them against those familiar lips. Feeling him gasp against the contact, only to growl at my retreat, a thrill surges through me, and I knot my fingers in his hair. This sinful man was so familiar; I slipped to stand between his thighs, his hands resting on my hips like vices as he pulled me to his chest, and I grit my teeth with restraint. 

Those large, strong hands made me feel secure. The heat of his body warmed me to my core, and the stubble of his jaw scrubbed against me as he tempted me to kiss him. I pressed my forehead to his, tilting my head in defeat as I dodged him, allowing a chaste kiss to the corner of my mouth.

"Get a grip and turn yourself back into the man I agreed to do this with because we need him right now, not this... whatever the hell you're doing. This is war. People die. Get over it." The risk of speaking this way was that there was a strong chance he might never forgive me, that my plan would backfire, and there would be nothing left for either of us.

"Take a damn shower; you smell like rum," I growl as I yank his head back, meeting his gaze, only to shove away. If I lingered a moment longer, I would have begged him to bed me.   "I'll be back in the morning. I expect to find a much different person - be it a more hungover person- tomorrow." 

"What makes you think you can talk to me this way?" He asks. 

I can feel it in his voice, the anger building. I try not to laugh because I'm almost euphoric that at least some part of him sounds normal. 

"Because I just did? And you did nothing. Think about that tonight, maybe?" 

Don't stop now. 

I snag my beaten-up vest and pull it on. "Tomorrow morning," I tell him firmly, and he opens his mouth to speak, but I quickly retreat out the door and lock it. I expect the doors to fly off their hinges, but they don't, for maybe he's too angry or passed out. If all goes to plan, I'll have a very pissed-off warlord waiting for me in the morning, or I'll be looking for a new leader for the lycan army. 

My heart is flying in my chest, and the thrill and terror of speaking to him like that put me on edge. It's a good thing he was trashed, or I  would never have been able to keep from acting on the only way I knew to bring him back to me. Silently, I hope to myself that my talk has snapped him out of it. 

Regardless, I know where I want to go next, and I walk almost too quickly down the hall. I find the room I've seen him go into, and I knock on the door. Impatient, I knock again. 

Marcus answers, shirtless and wearing only his undershorts. He yawns, his thick black mane hanging down loose around his shoulders. He's freshly showered, his tan body reflecting the torch's light in his room; I bite my lower lip. The body is decent; he's large, broad, tan, and not nearly so scarred. 

Marcus is not as perfect as Haryek, but he's not as damaged as Verando though he does have more hair. Some of the definition left something to be desired compared to what I had. Marcus had a bit more body fat than my warlord sported, but I didn't necessarily mind that. 

 "Everything alright?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand sleepily. 

"No." I breathe and throw my arms around his neck, crushing my lips against his. His bristled beard feels strange against my face. Have I ever been with someone with more than stubble? His hands find my hips as he pulls me up onto his body and quickly closes the door behind me. 

"What's wrong?"

"Everything." I groan into his mouth and slide off my vest, throwing it onto the floor. "Just stop talking.. or keep talking but talk about something else. Your accent is sexy." I climb down from him, and he takes my face in his hands, kissing me deeply as I reach for my shirt, but I pause and then move to kick out of my pants instead. 

"This hair color looks stunning in this lighting..." Marcus hums, attacking my neck, and I shiver at the feeling of the hair against my skin. He pulls my collar aside to rake his teeth against my collarbone, and my hands shoot up to bury them in his curly hair. 

"Ay! You like it rough, eh?" He chuckles. 

"Yes. Growl at me." I plead, and he obeys, though it's more like a purr into my ear as his teeth catch my earlobe. I can't focus on the compliment, I pull at his hair and my free hand slides down his body to run my nails down that muscular chest. His chest and torso are longer and broader in ways; I imagine that he's probably taller than Verando by two inches, for I could pull Verando to my height, but Marcus has to completely stoop if I'm standing on my toes. 

"If you do not find me attractive, I understand" He shrugs, unshamed, catching my hands as I explore his body. I kick out of my pants and grab his undershorts, yanking them down.

"Just stop talking. I want you to fuck me, Marcus." I kiss him firmly, biting his lower lip and he chuckles. I'm determined to take the grin off his face as I slide down his body and take his cock into my mouth. The more he spoke, the more I knew I'd regret this decision, but I had to prove to myself there was life beyond my captor. 

It's been so long, and I'm a little desperate; my body is thrown into overdrive just from the near kiss with my warlord, and I use that spark to spur me into this encounter.  I take a hold of him with my hand as I suck, looking up to meet his appreciative gaze. 

"You're incredible..." He breathes, and I grin at him, my other hand grabbing his ass. He inhales sharply, and I take him out of my mouth, kissing the girthy base. Everything about Marcus was thicker, though this particular appendage wasn't quite the size I was accustomed to; I found him more than adequate. 

Pulling me to my feet, I shiver at his rough hands on my body. He slides his hands under my shirt, and I stop him. 

"No more foreplay. Just do it, please; I want you. This way." I turn around and press my bare ass against him, grinding back on him. He kisses my neck from behind, and I reach back to tangle my hand in his hair. The anticipation is killing me. My eager hand slides to grab his cock and stroke him, cursing because I forgot the oil. 

"Eager, aren't we?" He comments. Licking his fingers, he applies them to my entrance a bit more forcefully than I might have liked, making me cringe as I brace myself against the post. It'd been so long; everything was tight, and I struggled to relax with this stranger. I feel like a teenager again, using spit instead of oil. 

"Yes." I groan; I need to get back to some form of normalcy, to control some aspect of my life, and my pleasure seemed like an excellent place to start. 

"What if I want to take it slow? You're so pretty when you make those sounds, baby."

"Marcus, I need this. Now, are we doing this or not?" I plead, running from the regret, knowing that there was no way I'd had enough prep. Part of me wanted and needed it to hurt; I wanted to start over, I wanted to blame him for what I was going through. 

"As you wish." 

I untangle myself from him and grab the bedpost, swaying my hips in anticipation. He runs his hand down my clothed back, fingertips skirting over my skin. "Next time, I want to see you." 

"Marcus." I ignore that this name sounds so foreign to me in this context; it's not the name I want to plead for. I think of the gray-haired man standing behind me, telling me exactly how he would have me, describing how my body responded to him and coaxing me into submission. 

Marcus runs his manhood against me, and I quiver; his hand caresses my backside, squeezing and kneading. He presses into me, forcing entry into my uncertain body, making me grit my teeth as I slide from the bedpost to throw myself over the bed, leaving my hips to rest in his hands. I needed the sheets, gripping them, biting them, erasing those previous experiences from my mind. 

"You truly are incredible." He breathes, kissing my shoulder before he starts to move, his hands gripping my hips as he moves so slowly within me. 

I want to ask him to stop and beg for mercy, but I know this man would obey, and that's not what I wanted. My body was on fire, a mixture of discomfort and the unwillingness to let go. Damn him for making me do this, for forcing me to find someone else, to step back into the world where I was no longer normal. 

"Marcus." I manage to gasp, trying to encourage the poor man who was an unknowing participant in my depravity. 

"Nicolas." He purrs back. "You're like music to my ears, baby." 

It occurs to me that Marcus probably doesn't have much experience with men, either. Groaning to myself, I don't touch myself as I rock back against him, intending to get him to completion as fast as possible. The way he's panting and murmuring, I know he won't be long. 

Marcus murmurs to me, crooning, stroking my back, and rubbing my shoulder, tangling his fingers in and out of my hair as he guides me against him. I yelp as he quickens, moving to lay mostly on top of me, pinning me beneath him as he buries himself inside of me. "You feel amazing." he gasps, kissing my neck. 

I fear I might suffocate. "Don't finish inside me." I manage, shuddering at the ache that begins to dull. 

Suddenly, he withdrawals and I inhale sharply as I feel his completion coat my lower back. In the back of my mind, I hope he didn't get any on my shirt. Propping myself up on my elbows, everything in my body throbs, and I know I will be sore tomorrow. 

With more care than I deserve, Marcus wipes my back clean with a hand towel, slowly massaging one of my cheeks with the other hand. "Did you get what you needed?" He asks, curious, bending to kiss the back of my neck. 

Reluctantly, I nod. "Yeah.. I think I did. Can I sleep in here tonight?"