I sit up with a gasp, my fingers raking down my throat. For a moment it’s like I’m underwater, trying to breathe. I choke, strangling on nothing at all.

Shutting my eyes, I struggle to remember how to breathe. And then suddenly, I inhale a great, gasping lungful of air. Then another, then another. The relief is immense, dragging each breath in with gratitude.

I tremble as I look around my room. White linens, light-colored stone, a white cushioned chair. There is something colorful on the chair, something that definitely wasn’t there when I went to sleep.

Trying to control my shaking, I push back the covers and get out of bed. My lace panties and tee shirt cling to my body, dampened by sweat. Still, the tropical air feels good as I move to investigate.

I walk to the chair, the sun-warmed stone feeling good on my feet. Picking up a long, thin box, I frown at the gift. It’s colored pencils, every color I could possibly imagine. There is also a large sketch pad underneath. Opening it, leafing through it’s thick white pages, I don’t know how to feel.

I’m grateful that Dryas listens, I really am. But at the same time, maybe he just sort of conveniently forgot that he abducted me and holds me against my will. He knows that without my sister, I can’t go anywhere. So he has cowed me, just by holding her somewhere else.

When I flip through the book a second time, a note falls out. bending down to pick it up from the stone floor, I open the thick white pages.

Maybe this can be the beginning for you, the way it is the end for me.

It’s unsigned, but he obviously means to reference yesterday’s conversation. That part about it being the end for him though… I don’t know what that bit means.

I spend the rest of the day wandering around the castle, sketching whatever strikes me. A grandfather clock that stands alone in a random room, tall and elegant, it’s glass so old that it makes the clock seem rheumy. The fruit bowl in the kitchen, the vibrant ceramics, the plums, and the apples a strange but pleasing combination of colors.

At last, when the sun begins to set, I head outside. I’m hesitant at first, opening the giant front door, it’s scarred oak door creaking ominously. Dryas never said that I’m not allowed to go outside, and the falling light is just so majestic. Besides, if he wanted me to behave a certain way, he should probably be here to reinforce it.

I take a seat next to the grand front door, on one of the sturdy-looking little walls. It’s made of the same stone as the rest of the upper castle, each piece a very different shade of the same… what, quartz? Limestone?

Sighing, I’m not sure.

I find a flowering vine creeping down the side of the wall, a frail purple thing. Maybe jasmine or nightshade, I don’t know. Sitting with my sketchpad balanced on one knee and the colored pencils splayed out on the floor, I spend over an hour drawing. My tongue sticks out as I concentrate on getting the arch of one particular bloom right.

I don’t even notice the strange man until his body blocks the dying light. Looking up, I’m startled to find the same man that was here before standing before me, looking inquiringly at me.

“Mother Mary,” I say, standing. The sketchbook tumbles out of my lap to the floor, landing with its pages splayed out awkwardly. My breath catches when the man takes another step closer, his expression somewhere between pitying and wheedling.

This man must be crazy to come back here after Dryas nearly killed him. I don’t know his motives enough to doubt them, but then again I don’t give him much benefit either. Unconsciously, I clench the colored pencil in my fist.

“Bonjour,” the man says, his accent flat and odd. An American, perhaps? “You speak English, don’t you?”

I take a step back toward the castle, trying to think. English is actually my mother tongue, but he doesn’t need to know that. I spread the French accent on thickly. “Oui. A little.”

While I’m talking, I’m cramming my brain for what I should do. I glance backward nervously, wondering just where Dryas is. The man licks his lips and takes another step toward me, which really sets my alarm bells off.

I do the math. He’s taller than me, almost six feet. I’ve got youth on my side, judging by his graying temples. But will that be enough if he tries to hurt me somehow?

“I was hoping that I would be able to speak with you alone the last time I was here,” he says, speaking slowly.

“You shouldn’t be here.” I take another step back. My butt hits the tall door. “Seriously, you should leave.”

The man’s expression turns to pity. “Are you afraid of that man who was here before?”

Yes. But this stranger doesn’t need to know that, either.

“No,” I say a little breathlessly, shaking my head. “Please… please leave.”

The man cocks a brow. “And leave the future princess here alone with that man? I don’t think so.”

“Future princess?” I repeat, my brow lowering. “Are you with Father Derrik, then?”

Then several things seem to happen all at once. The door opens, bumping me forward. Dryas pokes his head out of the door, scowling instantly when he sees the man. The stranger blanches and starts to turn, to run away again.

A growl rips from Dryas’s throat, sounding more animal than human. I’m knocked aside as he bursts through the heavy front door, his expression nothing short of murderous.

This time, I don’t even try to stop Dryas as he sprints after the man. He catches him almost effortlessly like he isn’t even trying. Then Dryas puts the smaller man in a headlock and clutches his jaw, snapping it as easily as one might pluck the head off a flower. The man’s neck makes a sickening crunch that I will never forget.

Dryas drops him to the ground, his chest heaving. He watches the man for a few seconds to make sure he isn’t going to move anywhere, then he turns his burning gaze up to me.

When our eyes connect, I swear there is even more of a spark than usual. He’s electric. There’s energy pouring off of his aura, almost audibly snapping and popping. And I can’t help it, I am entranced by Dryas’s vigor.

No matter how dangerous putting my hands on that live wire might be.

“Are you okay?” he growls, taking two steps toward me.

I straighten and nod, swallowing hard. I can’t help but look at the body on the ground, now dead but only moments ago very much alive. The act of taking his life should repulse me, as it should any God-fearing Christian.

But there is so much power in it, in the act of causing the man to die. Dryas just acted without thought, did what he apparently has been conditioned to do.

And me? I’m feeling… lust. I’m longing for him, despite what he’s just done. Disgusted with myself, I look at Dryas, my face full of want.

Dryas seems to know without a word that I need him. He barrels into me, crushing my body to his, bringing his lips down over mine. I slip my arms around his neck, moaning into his mouth. He swings me up into his arms and carries me back into the castle.