The smell of singed hair and charred herbs follows us all the way back to the inn, clinging to our clothes like guilt. Mirelle hasn't stopped looking over her shoulder since we left the forest, her electric blue hair practically standing on end with tension. "Well, that went spectacularly wrong," I mutter as we trudge up the narrow staircase to our room. My legs ache from running through the forest, and my lungs still burn from the smoke of our impromptu forest fire. "So much for keeping a low profile." Mirelle fumbles with the key, her fingers uncharacteristically clumsy as she works the lock. "Just get inside," she hisses, practically shoving me through the doorway once it swings open. I stumble into our room, the familiar sight of our twin beds and weathered furniture offering little comfort after the day we've had. The window is still cracked open from this morning, letting in the cool night air and distant sounds of the City settling down for the evening. Mirelle slams the door behind us, dropping her satchel on the floor with a heavy thud. When she turns to face me, her expression is grim, mouth set in a hard line that makes my stomach clench. "We lost everything," she says, running a hand through her hair. "All the herbs, burnt to a crisp." "Can't we just try again tomorrow?" I ask, sinking onto my bed. The mattress creaks beneath my weight, a sound that's become oddly comforting in its familiarity. Mirelle paces the small room, her footsteps heavy against the floorboards. "No, we can't just 'try again,'" she snaps, mimicking my tone. "Vessa knows where here. She knows what you are." I pull off my face covering, grateful to finally breathe freely. "So what's the plan?" She stops pacing, her blue eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes me shift uncomfortably. "We're leaving Qence. Tomorrow morning." "What? But we just got here." I straighten up, gripping the edge of the mattress. "We don't even have enough money to…" "I've already figured it out," she cuts me off, moving to the window to peer out into the darkness. "There's a caravan heading west toward Lannos at dawn. They're looking for guards." "Guards?" I repeat, trying to wrap my head around this sudden change in plans. "Like, fighting off bandits and monsters?" Mirelle turns from the window, her expression softening slightly. "It's perfect for us. We get paid, we get out of Qence, and we put distance between ourselves and Vessa." "That's great then," I say, nodding as I process this sudden change in plans. The idea of getting far away from Vessa is appealing, even if it means throwing ourselves into potential danger. At least it's danger we can prepare for. I lean back on my bed, stretching my sore muscles, ready to collapse into sleep after this disaster of a day. The mattress squeaks beneath me as I shift to get comfortable. Mirelle clears her throat. "No," she says firmly. "You're sleeping with me tonight." "What?" I bolt upright, staring at her in disbelief. My heart hammers against my ribs as memories of the full moon night flood back. "Are you serious right now?" She rolls her eyes, her electric blue hair crackling with what might be annoyance. "Not like that. I mean, in the same bed." She gestures toward the window. "Vessa could have followed us. If she tries anything while we're asleep, I need to be able to react instantly." I narrow my eyes, suspicion crawling up my spine. "And you can't do that from your own bed?" "Look," she sighs, dropping onto her mattress with unusual heaviness. "If someone grabs you in the middle of the night, I need to be close enough to stop them before they can use your curse against us both. It's tactical, nothing more." "I really think that's too much," I say, edging away from her. "We slept separately last night and nothing bad happened." Before I can react, Mirelle lunges across the space between us and grabs my wrist. My body instantly freezes, muscles locking into place as the curse takes hold. I can only watch as her face transforms, her eyes widening with an almost manic intensity. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Sam," she says, her voice dropping to a fervent whisper. Her grip tightens, and I see something wild flickering in her eyes. "I have to keep you safe. Don't you understand that?" A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the curse. "I don't feel safe right now, Mirelle," I manage to say, my voice barely audible. Something shifts in her expression, a flash of hurt, maybe even shame. She releases my wrist abruptly, and control floods back into my limbs. I rub the spot where her fingers dug into my skin, watching her carefully as she steps back. "Get ready for bed," she says flatly, turning away from me. I don't have to follow her command, the curse is broken the moment she let go, but I realize I'm probably not going to win this argument. Not tonight, not when she's . I could try to kill her again, set her on fire like I did in the forest, but the truth is, I still need her. Especially now with Vessa out there, knowing I’m in the City. With a resigned sigh, I grab the pajamas she lent me and change quickly, keeping my back to her. When I turn around, I freeze in shock. Mirelle has slipped into bed, the blanket pulled up to her waist, but she's completely naked from the waist up. The moonlight streaming through the window highlights the curves of her breasts and the lean muscles of her shoulders. "Come on," I say, paralyzed at the edge of the bed. "You said you wouldn't do it again." She looks genuinely confused for a moment before understanding dawns on her face. "I'm not going to," she says, patting the empty space beside her. "I just prefer to sleep in the nude. It's more comfortable." "I've seen you sleep," I counter, crossing my arms defensively. "You don't do it naked." Mirelle's expression darkens. "Just shut up," she snaps, grabbing my wrist and yanking me onto her bed. "Let me be comfortable for once." I tumble onto the bed, heart racing as she positions me with my back to her, wedging me between her warm body and the cool wall. The curse keeps me motionless as she arranges us to her liking, pulling the blanket over us both. "There," she says, her breath warm against my neck as she wraps an arm around my waist. Her bare breasts press against my back through the thin fabric of my borrowed pajamas. "Is that so terrible?" I want to argue, to pull away, but my body remains locked in place by her touch. The wall looms inches from my face, trapping me completely. "Just relax," she commands softly, and immediately I feel my muscles go limp, tension draining away against my will. My breathing slows, deepens, as if my body is betraying me by finding comfort in this forced intimacy. "I hate this," I whisper, even as my treacherous body melts into her embrace. "I know," she murmurs, her fingers finding their way to my hair. She begins to stroke it gently, running her fingers through the strands in a rhythm that's almost hypnotic. "But it's necessary." I stare at the wall, focusing on a small crack in the plaster to keep myself grounded as she continues playing with my hair. The touch is tender, almost reverent, nothing like the aggressive passion of the full moon night. "I'm going to keep you safe from now on, okay?" she whispers, her voice taking on a dreamlike quality. "No matter what happens. No matter who comes for you." "Mirelle," I start, trying to find the right words to explain how this feels, how wrong it is. "Shh," she cuts me off, her lips brushing against my ear. "Just enjoy my presence." And suddenly, I do. The command washes over me like warm honey, my resistance melting away as my mind recalibrates. The wall I've been staring at fades from focus as a pleasant haze settles over my thoughts. I feel her lips press against my neck, soft at first, then more insistent. Each kiss sends little sparks dancing across my skin. I should be fighting this, should be horrified, but all I can feel is a strange, dreamlike contentment. Behind me, Mirelle shifts slightly. Her arm unwraps from my waist, and I hear her breathing change, growing heavier. It takes me a moment to realize what's happening, her hand has disappeared beneath the blanket, moving rhythmically between her own legs. "Are you okay with this?" she whispers against my neck, her voice husky and breathless. "Yes," I reply immediately, the word sliding from my lips without hesitation. The curse compels the answer, but what terrifies me is that I mean it. Her breath hitches as her movements quicken beneath the covers. She presses closer, her lips never leaving my neck. Each kiss feels like a brand, marking me as something that belongs to her. "I've been thinking about you all day," she confesses between kisses, her voice breaking slightly as her pleasure builds. "Do you ever think about me?" she whispers, her voice trembling with vulnerability I've never heard from her before. "The way I think about you, Sam?" The question hangs between us, heavy with implications. I want to lie, to protect myself from whatever this is becoming, but the curse won't let me. "Yes," I admit, the truth dragged from me like a confession. She moans softly in my ear, the sound vibrating through me. Her free hand slides around my hip, finding its way between my legs. Her fingers cup me through the thin fabric of the borrowed pajamas, gentle but possessive. "You're soft, though," she observes, disappointment coloring her tone. "It must be the curse," I explain. "When you paralyze me, everything just... stops." Her breath is hot against my neck as she considers this. "Do you want to be hard?" she asks, her fingers tracing the outline of me through the fabric. "No," I say firmly, relief washing through me as I realize her command to enjoy her presence hasn't extended to this. There's still a part of me that's my own. "You don't want to feel good?" she asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and hurt. "Not ," I whisper, the words scraping past the lump in my throat. She pauses, her fingers stilling against me. For a moment, I think she might pull away entirely, might finally understand the violation that's been happening between us. But then her lips brush against my ear. "But everything else is okay?" Her voice is tentative, searching. "The closeness, the warmth?" I swallow hard, trapped by both her touch and the curse's demand. "Yes." The admission hangs in the air between us, damning in its genuine but also fake sincerity. Her hand withdraws from between my legs, and I feel her movements quicken beneath the covers as she returns to pleasuring herself. Her breathing grows more ragged against my neck, hot and desperate. Her free hand slides beneath my pajama top, fingers splaying across my chest, tracing patterns on my skin that feel like claiming marks. What began as gentle kisses transforms into something more primal. Her teeth graze my neck, followed by her tongue. Each bite sends confusing signals through my body, pain, and something else I refuse to name. "Sam," she gasps against my skin, her voice breaking. "Sam, Sam, Sam." Her body tenses against mine, trembling as she reaches her peak. My name becomes a whimper, a prayer whispered directly into my ear as she comes undone. I feel her shudder, the vibrations traveling through her body into mine. "I love you," she breathes into the darkness, her voice raw and unguarded. I say nothing in return, letting the silence speak for me. But something twists in my chest at her words, not love, but a strange, unwelcome warmth that makes me hate myself almost as much as I hate this situation. When her breathing finally steadies, her arm wraps around me again, pulling me closer like I'm something precious. The curse keeps me pliant in her embrace, unable to pull away. "Sleep now," she murmurs, and consciousness begins to slip from my grasp like water through fingers. Darkness swallows me whole, dragging me down into a velvet abyss where thought dissolves into nothingness. My consciousness slips away like sand between fingers, leaving nothing but the warm weight of her body against mine as I surrender to the inevitable pull of slumber. The last thing I register is her breath against my neck, steady and possessive.