His strong arms banded around her and then he rocked his hips. She felt his cock move inside her, still semi-erect. She moaned, it felt good. He was softer now, the touch more of a tease. He did it again. And again. Until he grew hard and long inside her, making her muscles quiver.

He took her like that. With her knees spread atop his thighs as he slowly thrust in, with their mouths fused together.

When her body climaxed, he kept his mouth fused to hers, letting no sound escape. Her body needed to release all that incredible pleasure somehow and so it gripped his cock furiously, kneading it until he groaned deep in his chest and spilled white-hot inside her.

The moment touched her unlike anything had before. Her heart felt soft and tender and her brain struggled to regain control of herself. He wasn't ready for anything more than this, she told herself.

She looked into his beautiful golden brown eyes and wondered if he ever would be. And could she ever deal with that?

“Send for her.”

“Right away, your highness.”

Alrik listened to the fading footsteps of the steward but his eyes were glued to the painting on the wall. It was a massive work, one of the largest in the castle; his father had it commissioned when he'd just been a boy of twelve. He used to study the painting many times during the Great War when he'd been relegated to the castle for protection. While the armies clashed outside the very walls he slept within.

The painting showed his father sitting on his throne wearing his royal grandeur--the long robed gown, the royal blue cape with gold trim. Next to him sat his mother in her finest royal gown made of hundreds of sparkling diamonds. But none of that interested him. It was the two boys sitting below the king and queen on the steps of the dais. He and Telal looked so young and innocent on the surface. But the painter had captured the hard look in their eyes quite well. Telal's dark golden eyes looked stern and unforgiving, much like their father’s, while his own younger gaze looked fresh with its violet hue.

It had been so long since he looked like that—golden skinned, reddish hair, and violet eyes—that he started to forget that he’d changed, morphed. The changes to his physical body had happened over a time, slowly. At first, he hadn't noticed it. Really he didn't notice it at all until one day after a bath. Just another ordinary day, but on that day he looked at himself in the mirror and saw his dark skin. He remembered feeling surprised by it; he'd touched his arm, watching his reflection in the mirror, to see if it was some kind of magic trick, a spell. Even then he hadn’t questioned it. Instead he’d welcomed it as if someone had told him he’d be having coffee today instead of tea. Now he wondered as he looked at that painting, why hadn’t he cared?

Many things could drive a person to change so drastically. He knew that, understood it, and had taken that as an answer to why he'd changed. Then he didn't think of it no more. Now his eyes had changed back. Why now? After all these years? Only two answers seemed possible. It could be finally having Arianna or seeing his brother. His mind felt scrambled with wild thoughts. He couldn't seem to keep his mind clear and steady any more.

What did it mean that they'd turned back to their old color? Would his skin change as well? Would the searing hate in his heart vanish too? Hate at his brother who'd caused it all?

Alrik roared at the painting. Screamed all of his venomous rage at Telal until his voice dried and shriveled to a croak. He was caught in another place, a place where emotion controlled him. All that he heard was his own harsh breathing and the sound of metal cutting and cutting.

 When his voice stopped and the echoing shout faded, it still wasn't enough. His arms shook, his breathing sounded harsh. Alrik grabbed a sword from the table and slashed at the painting in hard sweeping cuts. The sounds of tearing paper, the ripping of cloth and snapping of the wooden frame cooled the hatred inside of him, if only a little.

His brother's body turned into slashes on the canvas like bears had ravaged it with their claws. The canvas folded in half, then dropped to the floor in tatters.

“Sir?” a hesitant voice said.

Alrik stared at the shredded painting, at the place where his brother used to be. His heart squeezed tight and his eyes watered. What had he done? Getting down on his knees, his hands trembled as he lifted the shredded remains of his brother's face.

“Sir?”

Alrik turned to the voice, and knew his eyes were glowing with simmering hatred. The steward took several steps back, his hand flying to his heart. As if that would save him.

The steward swallowed hard. The stench of his fear clung to air. “She, Lady Arianna, says she is ill and cannot receive you right now.”

A cold deadening feeling settled over him, starting in his heart and spread all the way to his fingers and toes. Alrik stood and stared down at the pieces of the canvas. Something snapped inside him.

He stormed into his study. The vial his mother had given him still sat on his desk. He grabbed it, uncorked it, and drank the entire contents. In a gradual rush his anger lessened, the trembling in his arms stopped, and his mind calmed. Taking a deep breath, he threw the empty vial into the fire and watched it blacken then shatter under the flames.

In the next second, he stalked out the door and up the stairs to Arianna's room. Sick or not, she wouldn't ignore him. She was his now. And she'd learn her place if he had to make her.

He didn't bother knocking but turned the handle and found it locked. Though his anger had lessened, it still simmered inside him. His mother's concoction allowed him to have better control of it. Bracing himself, he slammed his foot forward and kicked in the door. It burst open, the wood cracking along the frame. A feminine cry sounded from inside.

Alrik entered, finding Arianna sitting at her desk writing in a small notebook. Her eyes were wide and scared, and when she saw him, she immediately stood and backed up.

Good, he thought. You should be scared.

Arianna couldn't stop her heart from trying to beat out of her chest. Alrik looked more fearsome than ever. His chest rose and fell in great heaves; his hands were held stiffly at his sides as if ready to strike in a moment's notice, and his eyes... She gasped; his eyes had turned black again. The longer she stared the more she realized they swirled like black snakes coiling amongst themselves in a pit. What had happened to him since she last saw him?

He took a step into the room and kicked the door closed behind him. The realization that she was alone with him with no means of escape aside from her window that led to a forty-foot drop sent apologetic words falling from her.

“King Alrik, what are you doing here? I'm so sorry I couldn't make your request today. I'm-I'm really not feeling well, truly. I hope you understand.”

He didn't say a word but slowly took one step then another and another towards her. She felt like a weak animal being stalked by one much stronger than she was. When he got within a few feet of her, she screamed and darted to the side. His hard footsteps sounded after her.

She reached the bed and tried to climb over it, to get to the other side and to the door. She reached the edge of the other side of the bed, her hand curling around it as she frantically scurried across it, when a strong hand grabbed her ankle and tugged. She fell onto her stomach, sliding back towards him. She cried out again, tears forming in her eyes. He's going to kill me.

Strong hands grabbed her waist and flipped her over. She slapped at him, tears falling uselessly from her eyes, but he only grabbed her wrists and planted them on either side of her head. He leaned down over her, those dark terrifying eyes boring into hers.