The drama tired everyone out, so C.C. just took me and Lincoln back in the elevator, back into the glass. Lincoln and I collapsed into each other and onto the floor. He threw his arms around me, and as much as I wanted to talk to him forever about all of it, everything, I snuggled into him and watched as his eyes drifted shut. His breathing was rhythmic, and I felt too unprotected when I even considered moving away or pacing like I had the night before.

I had made a mistake. I had messed up, and I was scared. The cell could be opened by anyone outside. It opened in too. It was so perfect I wanted to scream and beat my fists against the glass, but I knew if I let my emotions take over like that, other things would soon follow, and Lincoln would think I was insane.

The smell of wine wound its way through the air, followed by the sound of footsteps and sloshing liquid. The steps weren't even, drunken and loud. I looked up and saw the Roman staggering down towards me. I could pretend I was asleep. It was a bold move, I know, but hold your applause.

Paul tapped on the glass, and I held my breath as Lincoln didn't open his eyes.

"Goddess, touch again."

Lincoln's eyes opened slowly, and I was thankful that he didn't speak or move. I only felt his hand tighter around my waist and his eyes staring into mine.

The Roman banged on the glass, and it took everything in me not to squirm and clamp my hands to the side of my face. He took another deep swig of his beverage and slammed his hand against the glass.

"Wake, Goddess."

I didn't move, both Lincoln and I were petrified against each other. Lincoln kept his breathing level, barely different than when he'd been asleep, and I was suddenly aware of how short my own was. If the Roman hadn't been so drunk, he'd have known we were awake.

"You touch me, and I feel warm. I want that feeling. Senses sharp. World full. Make feeling, Goddess. I beg. I give anything."

He didn't slur like I expected. The Roman's fist was against the glass again, and this time I buried my head into Lincoln. He cradled me, soothing me with whispers.

"Sky, he's not going to touch you. I promise I'll protect you. It's going to be alright."

I nodded, and the banging persisted, the Roman sounding desperate as he shrieked at us, first mixing a few Latin words in, then more and more until he wasn't speaking English at all. If I had been less scared, I might have cried. If I had been less emotionally haywire, I might have screamed or cowered in a corner, but as it was, I didn't do anything. I just let Lincoln's hand rub my back as I clung to him.

The banging stopped, and all I could hear was my breath. The Roman started moving, his footsteps heavy. I looked up and saw his hand on the door handle. He pushed it easily open, and Lincoln jumped into action. He stood up, and I pushed myself, so I was sitting next to him. I stood, a rush of adrenaline flowing through my veins as I looked at the man. The door was starting to swing shut, but the Roman wedged his foot in before that could happen. He drained his canteen of wine, and threw the flask into the door, keeping it open as he staggered further into the cell.

Lincoln gently pushed me back. I put my back to the wall, the Roman's malicious and drunken manner making my limbs stiffen as I pressed myself into the glass.

"Say you not Goddess."

He walked forwards drawing his sword, holding it limply as he walked towards Lincoln.

"Goddess brave. You not. Who you?"

He waved the sword dramatically in the air, eventually letting it settle just under Lincoln's chin.

"You protect the boy. Make me feel. I kill him."

He put both hands on the sword and pushed it, forcing Lincoln to move against a wall unless he wanted his throat split in half.

"Make me feel."

I looked at Lincoln's face and forced myself to move towards him. "Drop the sword," I said, "and then I'll do whatever you want."

The Roman didn't listen. Instead, he adjusted his stance, so the long edge of the blade was against Lincoln's throat. I kept moving forwards as Paul pushed it deeper into his neck.

"I said," I repeated trying to sound stern, "drop the sword."

"You not Goddess. I in charge."

A drop of blood rolled down Lincoln's throat, and he put his hand up to feel it.

"Put hand down."

Lincoln slowly let his arms drop by his side. I was next to the Roman by then.

"Drop. The. Sword."

The Roman looked at me and lowered the sword. He held his hand up for me. In seconds Lincoln punched him in the face. Paul's open hand flew to his nose, covering it, and when he lowered it, there was a sickening tilt to it. He didn't seem to care much. He straightened it himself, seeming immune to the pain he must have felt and glared at Lincoln. He raised his sword again, but my boyfriend was ready, his fists raised. I ran in front of him, letting energy flow out of me, creating a shield of sorts that his sword bounced off.

The momentum made him stagger back. He dropped the sword, but he moved forwards again touching the shield, and for a moment, I couldn't stop the warmth from flowing into him again. He immediately stiffened, sobering. He went back and got his sword, and I noticed he'd been right. He seemed to have stronger senses too.

He hit my shield thing with enough force that it should have shattered my arm, but I was fine. I got pushed back towards Lincoln, but I stopped myself, extending the gold so when he stuck again, I didn't have to move to block him. He looked irritated, but he was still coming in fast.

I couldn't get the shield up fast enough as he dealt another blow, hitting my arm. It should have been enough to leave me with a bloody stump, but as it was it had only made a deep cut, so I could see my bone. The skin around the wound started to glow and mend itself, but I'd lost time.

The Roman rushed in by me, and when Lincoln moved between us, the Roman hit him with the flat of his sword, sending him moaning on the ground. My gash healed, and Paul held his hand up for me again.

He bent down, sticking his weapon under Lincoln's chin, moving it so Lincoln was forced to look up at him.

"I kill him. Make me feel."

I put my hand on his and watched as gold flowed through his veins, up through his arm, into his shoulder and neck, down his torso, until the man was glowing himself. His irises turned to gold, and he stared at me. I tried to lift my hand, but he grasped it.

"More."

I gave him more, his skin glowing until I thought it would kill him, but every time I tried to stop, by separating from him or ceasing my flow of energy he demanded more. And more. And more.

"Stop." He barked, his voice velvety, no longer sounding like his own. He looked like a walking gold statue, and he gripped my hand so tight my eyes watered. He released me and moved his sword again. He traced it along Lincoln's chin.

"Stand, boy," he commanded, his voice radiating a raw power that was terrifying. A raw power that I'd apparently been able to give him.

Lincoln stood, the fear showing in his eyes like it must have mine. I'd created something that wasn't Paul anymore. It wasn't from me in a sense. It was mine, but it'd changed. What I had in my veins felt warm and good, but this, this was something else. It was malicious and vile. Even Lincoln's embrace didn't make me forget it for a moment.

The sword looked dull in the hand of such a terrifying but magnificent owner, but it still did the job just as well. He put the weapon to Lincoln's throat again.

"I God. Bow, sorceress. Bow or he die."

I looked at his eyes, no longer human because it was all the same gold, and I bowed down. I bent at my waist, so I could see my knees and then stood.

"Kneel."

What else could I do? I was afraid, and he had control of Lincoln's life, so I entertained whatever whim he had. Lincoln didn't fight either or argue for me to rebel. The Roman smiled cruelly at me and thrust Lincoln towards me.

"Stand," he told us.

I complied, pulling Lincoln up with me. He smiled at us.

"Entertain."

I glanced at Lincoln, entirely unsure of what to do. C.C.'s strong voice cut through the silence I'd helped create, and footsteps came running towards us.