PART III - and promise me

Isabella was drowning. She was close to losing all air. Too close. And it was Lorcan's hand on her head, pushing her under water, that prevented her from taking a deep calming breath that her burning lungs so desperately needed.

"C'mon, girl, you are not even trying anymore" Lorcan roared, the sound of his voice muffled by the running water, the beating of her heart and the drumming in her ears.

With terrifying desperation, Isabella managed to plant her feet firmly on the riverbed and came out with an eager gasp for breath.

It wasn't long, but it was enough for her to hear the others' voices.

"I don't know, I think she is trying," Fenrys pointed out. Unhelpfully. Unworriedly. And positively loyal.

"Indeed," Gavriel agreed.

That was all she could hear before one of Lorcan's legs swapped her off her feet while he pushed her back underwater.

"Shut up the two of you! She should be doing better by now" He barked.

Her hands were being kept behind her back by Lorcan's tight grip. Which was embarrassing, because he was able to keep her restrained with only one of his hands. Her feet were finding it hard to find the balance due to the slippery moss covering the river bed, and her overflowing emotions were sizing any kind of reasonability that could be of any help to her.

Panic. Fright. Foreboding; were all she could think of. Instead of going over Lorcan's lessons on self-defense and how to control terror in order to function efficiently.

"Isabella! I'm barely using any force. Do better" He fired at her.

Anger and embarrassment overflowed her, feelings strong enough for her to momentarily forget about her -probable- impending death -and, no, she didn't think she was exaggerating- to try harder.

Instead of miserably fighting to keep her head overwater, she forced her body to relax. As her body went limp, Lorcan lost his balance due to the sudden lack of fight against his strength. Consequently, he did not only stumble, but also loosened the tightness in her hands and head caused by the surprise of her actions.

She used it to her advantage, and in less time than she had thought herself possible, she broke free of his grip on her while swimming back to the surface. Isabella came face to face with Lorcan, whose frown made him look almost like a child pouting, and she punched him in the guts.

He cried in pain as his body doubled over. The howls of laughter coming from the males on the shore were loud and joyous. His eyes narrowed on her, "You bitch,"

"You fucker," She hissed back. "I was drowning!"

Lorcan had the audacity to roll his eyes. She considered hitting him again, but she doubted she would achieve it now that he had straightened and was back on alert.

"Stop whining. You were fine. I was not going to let you drown"

She gasped. Dramatically. Indignantly. "I couldn't breath-"

"Yeah, that's what happens when your head is underwater" He interrupted her, his voice dismissive.

Isabella decided to ignore him, so she turned and swam back to the shore. Gavriel had a towel in his hands, and he covered her shoulders with it.

His eyes were twinkling. "Good job,"

She raised an eyebrow, "With my task or my punch to Lorcan?"

He smiled widely at her, "Both, obviously"

Fenrys came to her side, then. Quickly and clearly enthusiastic. He grabbed her by the arms so she was looking at him. "Please, please, please tell me that you hit him hard enough to make him infertile" Gavriel hit the back of his head and chastised him. "Okay, fine. Tell me that at least he will be in pain for a couple of hours"

This time it was Lorcan's hand that collided with the back of Fenrys' head. Much stronger than the oldest male's one had been.

"I'm fine, and it's time for you to get over it"

Fenrys let go of her, and he only looked at Lorcan over his shoulder. His expression purposely sobered and forcedly indignant. "I'll get over it once you apologize"

Lorcan rolled his eyes, "I will not apologize for that. It's stupid and I did what I had to do"

Fenrys' gasp could have been heard all the way to her world for how loud it was. "What a heartless corpse you have become. It's clear there is no beating thing in your chest"

Lorcan pinched the bridge of his nose, already exasperated. "Corpses do not have a beating heart, idiot. They are corpses. Already dead"

He crossed his arms over his chest, unaffected by the male's accurate correction. "Of course you would decide to focus on that instead of apologizing"

"For the hundredth time-"

Isabella muted out the bickering she already knew by memory. After all, they had been like this for weeks already. Instead, she focused on the goosebumps breaking across her body as the familiar heat emanating from Rowan's body settled on her other side.

She ignored it.

"They can be like children sometimes," Gavriel mused, fondly.

"Sometimes?" She repeated, sarcastically.

Gavriel chuckled, "A couple of decades ago, they used to be much worse"

"Impossible,"

"No, he's right" Rowan intercepted, his eyes focused on the two gigantic males fighting like two six-year-olds. "Fenrys used to even play pranks on Lorcan just to make him mad"

Isabella frowned, "But he played a prank on him last week,"

He looked at her sideways, a knowing smile tilting his lips. "I know, but in the past, he used to do it daily"

"And how did Lorcan respond?"

Gavriel snickered. "Much like now, with the difference than at that time Fenrys was still a mere soldier, and since Lorcan was his superior, he used to punish him with torturous training"

"And he snitched on him to Fenrys' mother and his lieutenant" Rowan's voice sounded melancholy.

"To his mom?" She asked, skeptically. "That's low"

Both males laughed. "I know. Fenrys was always so furious that once he even cut Lorcan's hair while he was sleeping"

Isabella covered her mouth in surprise. A smile curled her lips, "No shit. How?"

Rowan shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe Fenrys is more smart than we give him credit for" Gavriel snorted, and then Rowan's eyes locked with hers and she saw the flash of mischievousness as he added. "Or maybe someone let him onto his tent at night after Lorcan drunk himself into oblivion"

She didn't need to ask who had helped younger Fenrys with his prank. "But, why?"

He shrugged once again and gestured at them with one of his hands. "Look at them. Aren't they entertaining? How could I resist that amount of fun?"

She smiled. She couldn't help it. "You are evil, Rowan Whitethorn"

He didn't deny it. Distractedly, he leaned closer to her side. "Sometimes," He told her, with a playful smile wide enough that allowed her to peek at his fangs.

Isabella shook her head, and had to force herself to look away from him as Fenrys' shouts grew louder.

Gavriel sighed, "I'll go get the food. They are always hungrier after fighting" He announced and then turned in his heels and left back to their camp.

Rowan and her stared at the two grown males in silence for less than a minute before he spoke. "You did good,"

She didn't even have the strength to snort. "I don't think so"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You did,"

"Rowan," She sighed, and rubbed her face tiredly with the palm of her hands. Now that all adrenaline had left her body, she only felt exhausted. And like she was not enough. "I couldn't remember any of Lorcan's advice. I was completely taken over by fear and the need to breathe"

He stared at her profile. Because she refused to look him in the eye, and for him to see that she was still scared. But for entirely different reasons.

Then, "That's not true. And the main reason why Lorcan insisted on this lesson was to get you used to efficiently reacting under pressure. Under life or death situations. It's entirely necessary and useful-"

She groaned, "I know that but-"

"-Let me finish," She shut her mouth. He continued, his voice strong and low. Intimate. And purely sincere. "Situations like the one you just had are inexorable for people like us. Impending deaths, danger, and uncertainty follow us like vultures. To be able to respond cold-headed. Reasonably. Effectively and efficiently is an essential quality that we must excel at. But Gods know it is a laborious task. I have seen soldiers be outstandingly good at combat, but terrible at these kinds of chores. Hell, I've seen soldiers who have never been able to manage what you just did" She told herself it was not pride tinting his voice and glinting in his eyes. "Fear is a double-ended sword. We all feel it. And we all drown in it. Little matters if it momentarily froze you because you still managed to snap out of it and win. You brilliantly passed this test. So give yourself more credit and do not mentally beat yourself up for taking your time"

Isabella swallowed past the knot in her throat. "If it hadn't been Lorcan, I would already be dead" She felt him stiffen next to her. "So I don't think I did as good as you claim"

"This was training, and you passed" His voice sounded hoarse. Thick. It made her burn. "And you have already passed more situations like these in real life than I can count. So I would still say that you have been doing brilliantly for longer than you give yourself credit for"

The laugh that erupted from her took her by surprise. It was a breathless, high sound that almost sent her into a spiral of tears. And yet, she still managed to whisper, so low that no human could have heard her. "I don't think so"

"I think so"

~

Isabella gasped as she awoke from her sleep, and she continued to gasp as she tried to control her breathing to bring it back into normality.

It was hard. And it took longer than she would have liked to admit, but eventually, she steadied her heart.

Black dots danced under her closed eyelids as she pressed her palms on her eyes. Harshly. Enough for the first signs of a pending headache to surrender as she replaced one pain for another.

Get it together.

She nodded to herself, threw her sheets to the side, away from her cold-sweated body, and stood up. Isabella grabbed the canteen filled with water that Rowan always left close to where she slept for situations like this. Her losing control. Her succumbing to her nightmares.

She didn't even spare a glance to the bodies sleeping around the ashes of the fire. She didn't need to to know they were all deeply asleep. They were snoring. Loudly. And she was pretty sure she heard Fenrys fart as she walked into the woods.

She began counting.

One second. Two seconds. Three, only two more. Four, five- and then the sound of rustling. Of dry leaves being stepped on. A purposeful sound. A warning to an arrival.

Isabella contained her grateful sighed as Rowan sat down next to her. Both of their backs pressed exhaustively against the same big, wide trunk.

"How bad was it?" His words were barely above a whisper, they could have been carried away by the nightly wind if it weren't for the fact that he could wield said element to his own will.

She kept her eyes open. "Bad. But not as much as the one I had last week"

In a way, it felt like she always came back to this. To the nightmares and the pain.

And in many ways, she also felt like she always came back to him.

She caught him looking sideways at her profile. He made an "mhm" sound. Then, "That's encouraging"

Isabella breathed a humourless laugh. "I suppose" He bumped his knee against hers, the action sending shivers running down her body. She ignored it. "Did I wake you up?" Or couldn't you sleep, either? Or did you also arouse from a nightmare of your own before I did?

There was no need for her to voice the unspoken words lingering in her mind. Rowan understood. And he just knew.

The male sighed, "I couldn't sleep." She waited. "Fenrys was supposed to stay on guard but he fell asleep as soon as the fire died down. And I just- I can't sleep knowing there may be danger falling upon us while no one is alert" He shot a quick look in her way.

She rested her head against the tree, turning it just enough to look at his face. At his tattooed side. His delicate, yet strong features. And his pursed lips.

She looked quickly away.

"Yeah, I heard him fart while I was coming here. He's passed out"

Rowan snorted, "He's been farting all night and I've had to smell it. How can he smell so bad when we all eat the same?"

Isabella clasped a hand on her mouth to stifle the burst of laughter that his words caused. She shook with silent laughs, and she could feel him moving, too. Shaking with restrained laughter. As well as the high heat emanating from his body.

When she could speak again, she said. "I know. What is wrong with his stomach?"

"I don't know but we may have to ask for a healer to check on him once we reach Banjali"

Right, they were close to their point of destination, now. They had travelled for what felt like months with the sole purpose of meeting with the camp of soldiers stationed in the south border of Eyllwe.

Yesterday, Gavriel had announced that they had finally reached Leriôa, and that it would take them no time to reach Banjali, or as Lorcan liked to call it "Stationed Hell".

It was one of the hundreds of Fae war camps scattered all over the three continents. And Banjali was one of the most important ones, for it was the second biggest and safest, full of Fae soldiers deployed in a vast territory, armed to the bones, trained for deadly combats, and with sharpened, keen minds issued in war.

She had told them she was ready. That she wouldn't leave them. That she would stay. With them. And join them in whatever journey they had already embarked on.

But her past words couldn't have been further from the truth. Because even though she was sure -no, she knew- she was fighting alongside the good people. That they were fighting for rights, and a good cause...The simple thought of war was enough for her stomach to constrict in fear, her guts to tense in a wrenching feeling, and her mind to spiral in an excruciating sensation she could recognize as fear.

The worst part, nonetheless, was that she was too much of a coward to even voice her true apprehension. She still wasn't sure why. Lately, her mind was too much of a spiral to place one feeling, and the logical reasons behind it, in a silver tray for closer examination.

Rowan noticed the too-prolonged silence as he waited for an answer from her, producing him to slightly shift the weight of his body. The movement caused their knees to brush, and the warm physical contact was simply enough to snap Isabella out of her thoughts.

She peered at him. "I did it again, didn't I?" He hummed in the confirmation. A sigh from her lips. "I've gotta get a hold of my mind"

She felt his eyes on her, then quickly looking away, then back on her once again. Rowan cleared his throat, seeming unsure. Nervous.

"There is..." He began, as one of his hands rested in the small space between them. "Something, I tend to do. To control my thoughts when everything is too overwhelming, " He clarified.

Isabella narrowed her eyes at him. "'Something'?"

He nodded. "It is an old technique I learned before meeting Gavriel or Lorcan. While I was stationed in the Southern Continent"

"I didn't know you had been there,"

His eyes snapped to hers. He studied her face. Looking for something. "Not many know,"

Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh,"

During their journey, Rowan and she had grown closer. Their friendship had blossomed into a wide willow. She felt like they understood each other on a deeper, more essential level than she did with the others. He was always there. And she tried to do the same for him.

It had started with him offering to teach her geography -despite the fact that she knew quite a lot about the limits of their world-. When she had asked him why, he had simply told her he wanted her to be armed with as much knowledge as possible. She may have blushed.

Rowan had then moved on to tutoring her about their history. The religions people followed -and even those that were long forgotten-, he shared hypotheses of their origins and the root of their powers with her. He had even tried teaching her words in different languages.

In return, she had taught him how to swear in Spanish. The dirtiest, and most disrespectful words she could think of. Because she found it funny. And it was adorable the way he sometimes mispronounced the words she had to repeat for him.

Isabella talked to him about modern devices, the internet, social mannerisms and interconnected cultures.

He had found computers especially hard to understand. And one night, after Fenrys had eavesdropped and asked multiple questions -to which one of them led to her explaining about porn- he had choked and retired quickly. As if his pants were on fire.

But the thing she liked, enjoyed, and appreciated the most was their awareness of what the other was feeling or going through. There were times when she felt like he could read her mind. She felt seen. It was unnerving as well as freeing.

The male had told her stories about him. Like one from when he was a kid, and his cousins played such a horrible prank on him while he was in his animal form, and he got so scared that he was sure he would pop an egg -he had explicitly forbade her from ever repeating that story in Fenrys' presence. He still couldn't let go of his obsession with chickens and Rowan's form- .

Or one from when he was a gangly pre-teen with too many hormones and his cousins walked in on him with a girl. He said they made fun of him for months. She may have wished to step on his toes after that particular story.

Nonetheless, she had reciprocated by telling him stories about her childhood. Before. Hers, however, were not as funny or interesting as his. She had been a very nonsocial kid, after all.

He hadn't seemed to mind, though, for he had listened to every one of her words with an intense glint in his eyes that had made her stammer over her words.

It had been nice. It was nice. Rowan. Their friendship. But Rowan, too. Of course. In a very platonic way. Definitely.

And so it was not a surprise at all that they always seemed to find their way to each other when sleep would -could- not claim them. Leading to talks deep into the night -and sometimes morning- while the chill in the air surrounded them and the stars and clouds waved at them.

The sudden wind caressing the trees was a sign Isabella recognized as Rowan being nervous. She cleared her throat, "Was it...nice there?" She sounded so dubious. She was.

He shook his head. "It was many things. Nice," The corner of his lips tilted downward. "...not so much. But I did meet someone," She ignored the sweat in her hands as he explained further. "He was old. Even for our standards. He was brilliant as much as he was cruel but regardless of it all, he taught me a way of separating myself from my thoughts in order to be able to focus without unreasonable distractions"

Isabella squinted. "Separate?"

"Yes, it works like placing every thought that you wish you could get rid of into a box or a building or a room. It takes time and a lot of effort, not only to manage to place them there but to keep them in there"

"Is it a sort of dissociation?"

He nodded, "Of sorts. That's why it is not recommended to do it often or in too big quantities. Just enough"

"Just enough," She repeated.

"Yes,"

"And you said you do this,"

Rowan shrugged in an attempt to carelessness. "Sometimes,"

"But you still..." But you still suffer like me were the words she didn't allow herself to speak. Because if he didn't, he wouldn't be next to her.

"As I said, it is not advisable to do it on a regular basis. It's unhealthy. There was a time when I did it all the time, I needed it to get through every day, and when I realized I had a problem, and that I couldn't keep doing it, breaking free of some of those...boxes was like trying to learn how to live again." He locked his gaze on hers. The harshness in them, and sternness etched onto his features took her by surprise. "I will teach you how to do it if you promise me that you will not reach that point"

Isabella licked her suddenly dry lips. She caught him following the movement before his eyes snapped back to hers, the acerbity in them never leaving him.

She considered his words, his confession, and what it must mean to him to offer this glimpse into his past and teach her said technique. It was an act of blind trust.

"Of course," She nodded. "I promise"

"Good,"

"Okay,"

Silence stretched. "So...are we going to start now or?" She trailed off.

"No. Tomorrow night. Right now I'm too...unfocused to be of any real help"

"Alright,"

And that was that.

~

"Imagine a box," Rowan's voice was low. Firm. And with her eyes closed, it stuck with her.

She tried, but it didn't feel right. "I don't really like boxes," She confessed. Still with her eyes closed.

"That's fine, try with a room."

No. A room felt too close to cages. Both physically and mentally.

He must have sensed her discomfort because his voice felt closer, softer as he spoke next. "You could also imagine a home. Your home" That...felt better. "But do it slowly. As if you were building it yourself. Imagine the wood and the bricks being put into place one by one. Then, paint it"

"Can I also decorate it? I love to decorate"

He sighed but she heard his smile. "Sure, why not?"

Isabella nodded, more to herself than anyone else, and began doing as told. She imagined a vast space full of wild grass and blue skies, and as she began building, one brick after the other, she realized that she already felt calmer.

"Keep going,"

She did. She finished with a room, and moved on to another one. The walls changed colour as she painted them in her mind, and once she was satisfied with the few pieces of furniture, she allowed herself a smile.

"Now, I want you to think of your nightmares. Your thoughts." The smile was wiped off her face immediately. "Think about them. Acknowledge them. And then guide them into your home"

She tried to do that, but just as she had managed an unsteady grip on them, they lashed out at her, as if they were livid things ready to strike and pour all the blood out of her system as ruinous images flashed behind her closed eyelids.

"Isa," Rowan's voice was like a welcomed whip of reality. Stability. Something to hold onto, to remind herself that it was all in her mind. And that she was the one who ought to be in control. "Slowly. Safely. Fixedly. Try again. Try until you cannot do it anymore"

Tilting her head to the side with a deepening frown on her face, she followed his orders. In her mind, Isabella stood in front of her imagined home, guarding it, like a knight protecting its fort. She lashed at their nightmares, at those gigantic soul-eating beasts, and she could have sworn she truly felt the weight of the sword in her hands as she raised it in an arc and stabbed them.

Over and over and over again.

Until they were nothing else but whimpering shadows, crawling to her feet in mercy.

But she had long ago become remorseless.

So with a steady hand, she grabbed them by their throats and threw them inside, sealing the door with a strength that took her by surprise.

"Good, Isa, that's good" She could have purred at his words and the proud tone of his voice. Rowan so rarely adulated others, he so rarely admitted to others being good enough to bother himself with praises.

His words made her feel special. Silly as it was.

"Now," He made her snap back to attention. "I want you to keep them there, I want you to lock them in that house and not let him escape. I want you to fight until you cannot keep going anymore"

"Okay," She was determined.

"And, Isa?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever want to stop, just let me know"

"Alright" It came out lower than she had intended.

"Now. Do it"

The monsters were restless. They were trying to fight their way out of their new beautifully decorated cage, they were uneasy. Edgy. Horrible and grotesque. They were her. Hers. And she would fight them until they bled with her indifference.

Or so she told herself. Because as soon as one of them tore through the front door, she panicked, already feeling the familiar cold shiver along her spine that was nothing more than a small rise of awareness of what was to come.

Her beating sped up, and she had to clean her sweaty palms against her tights as she tried again. One swirl. One failed stabbing. A ghostly claw gripping her wrist.

She opened her eyes with a yell trapped in her throat. Isabella looked at Rowan. "I can't"

"Isa-"

"I can't!" She repeated. More desperately. "Rowan I- This is stupid and I'm even more stupid for being unable to do this" She pressed her palms against her eyes and groaned. "I hate this. I hate it. I-" I hate myself.

Two broad, steady hands landed on her elbows. The warm touch embraced her all along her arms as it travelled upwards before stopping on her shoulders.

She was hyperventilating. She was breathing too fast and not enough. She felt feverish while her body was shivering with cold-sweat. She could barely hear or feel anything but the thrumming in her ears.

Not again. Not again. Not again.

But her body was not hers. And her mine was the one thing she owned that she wished she could get rid of.

Images flashed behind her eyelids. Two men raping a woman in a dark alleyway. Even more men manhandling one of the new girls while she watched from her dark corner. Terrified of breathing.

Blood, a lot of blood as one of the girls continued to cut her throat with a rusty fork she had found. Blood covering her hands as she finished killing her first two living creatures.

It was all the same. Over and over and over again.

Her memories were a never ending circle she could not escape.

And she- she just wanted-

But then-

But then, she was completely, gloriously engulfed in an embrace. She was lifted and placed on Rowan's lap, he embraced her in such a way that her head rested against his chest, while one of his hands went to the back of her neck.

Tentatively, shakily, she managed to cling to the front of his shirt with a force that took them both by surprise. She held onto him like a bindweed to the closest tree. She wouldn't -couldn't let him go.

She was crying, or at least she thought so. She was not sure of anything but the fact that she recognized the signs of what she was suffering from. And what she felt now that his arms were around her.

He didn't speak. He didn't ask a thing. He just held her. As strongly as she was to him.

He held her as she cried.

He held her as she shook.

He held her as she broke apart.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Later, she had calmed down enough that his soothing movements caused her to close her eyes. She told herself she wasn't going to fall asleep on him. But she did, and when she awoke, she looked up from the crook of his neck and found his green eyes already looking down at her.

And-

And her breath caught in her throat. Rowan was beautiful. He was like a God among mortals. His skin was slightly reddened from spending so many hours under the sun, his scent was rich and familiar, the small but defined scars that were scattered across his face always taunted her. She had always wanted to trace them, like mystical patterns. Her fingertips were itching with wishes, and maybe she was still a little bit too overwhelmed and not in her full senses because she-

She raised her hand and softly traced a scar on his jaw. Isabella saw his eyes widen, his body stiffened and she would have pulled away if he hadn't immediately relaxed and leaned onto her touch. She wasn't sure if he was even aware of what he was doing. She knew she wasn't.

She touched the scar on his cheekbone. And another one on his eyebrow. Then, the one on the dorsum of his nose. Lastly, she traced her favorite scar: this one was vertical, unlike the others, and it went from a little bit over his upper lip and down to his bottom lip.

She was not sure where all the bravery had come from, but it left her body as soon as she realized how inappropriate she was being. Her fingers, however, were still on his lips. His full, parted lips that were enchanting.

Her heart was in her ears, her body was too hot, and when she felt him catch his breath against her fingertips, she could do nothing but stare at him as heat built inside of her.

Rowan's eyes were on her, and then on her lips, then back on the rest of her face. She knew he was studying her, looking for something, though she didn't know what.

With her pulse close to a heart attack, Isabella did something dumb. But also something that was stronger than want or need or instinct.

Slowly, she shifted her weight on him until she was straddling his lap. His hands moved to her hips, and she saw him close his eyes for only a second. As if he were praying or trying to compose himself. But he did not pull away.

As if in a daze, bewitched, Isabella leaned closer to him, enough so that their foreheads bumped together. They were breathing each other's air. Sharing everything in the moment.

Faintly, Isabella remembered a time similar to this one. A time when they had almost kissed.

She didn't want her present to end like her past.

Oh.

Oh.

Was all she could think when his hands moved slightly lower, and pushed her closer to him so that their chests were not only aligned with the other but completely pressed against each other.

Encouraged, Isabella moved her head a little bit closer to his lips. If any of them had spoken, their lips would have brushed. And she wanted, maybe if she- or he could- did he-

She was lost.

Completely. Wholly. Undisputedly lost.

Because Rowan had moved, or maybe she had, and now their mouths were together. Their lips pushed against each other, and she couldn't comprehend anything. All she could do was feel.

It was a kiss full of teeth and spit and wrong movements and too much eagerness.

It was perfect. Better than anything she had ever experienced.

It became even better when she felt Rowan's tongue press to the seam of her lips, asking for her to open up to him. She complied happily. And it only took one slow, deep, stroke of his tongue against hers for Isabella to moan against his mouth.

His hands tightened his grip on her, and he let out a pleased groan even as he continued to kiss her. It was maddening. Entrancing. Surreal. It was everything.

Heat pooled between her legs. Desperate for more, Isabella moved her hips against him, trying to seek friction. They moaned in unison.

Her hands were in his hair, pulling and gripping strongly as they grinded their bodies together. They were both acting like two people starving for the other. No, more than that. As if they were trying to unite themselves in such a way that their bodies would scar and their memories would never forget.

He left her mouth, in response, Isabella let out an embarrassing whimper. Quickly, she felt him smile against her neck, and then his tongue was there. On her neck. Leaving wet kisses that had her furiously rubbing herself on him.

When she felt the tip of his fangs on her neck, taunting her, she let out a breathy, needy, "Rowan" that seemed to trip him over the edge. He growled. The sound loud and possessive. While his hands on her hips were tightened to the point of leaving bruises, he sucked on her neck with a new fervor that had her whispering his name over and over again.

She wanted him to bite her. To kiss her. To tear her clothes to shreds and take her right there. She needed it. It was the strongest emotion she had ever felt.

For a moment, she thought he was going to do it, for she felt his teeth again, pressing lightly on her neck, and then,

"ROWAN! ISABELLA!" Fenrys. That was Fenrys' voice. "Where are you?!"

She blinked once. Twice. Confused and still too hyper aware of Rowan. But Fenrys' voice rose again and- Gods, she had never wanted to kill Fenrys as much as she did when Rowan disentangled himself from her as the sound of incoming footsteps increased.

The moment was over.