He doesn't answer.

'What have you done to me?!' you scream, your voice echoing through the trees.

He approaches closer, close enough you can feel something brush against your back. You look over your shoulder. He's wearing his cloak, his hood lowered, but you can see the gleam of his eyes like yellow beacons.

He reaches out to touch your head but you pull away with a shout. He refuses to leave you alone, gently grabbing onto your shoulders.

'Don't touch me!' You try to throw him off but he merely grips you more tightly. Weeping, you drop your head in defeat.

You hear a rustle, then feel something warm and soft pressing around your shoulders—his cloak.

You shrug it off. 'I don't want it. I should just die.'

He pulls it back on again, then crouches behind you. His breath is warm against the back of your neck.

You bite your lip. 'How long will it take?'

'It's different for everyone. Maybe days. Maybe hours.'

Days? You drop your head into your hands. He grips your shoulders again, pressing his thumbs gently into your aching muscles.

You suck in a sharp breath at a stab of pain that rushes up your spine and into the base of your neck. There, it spreads across your scalp where it hammers behind your eyes and in the sides of your head.

With shaking hands you touch yourself just above the ears, then jerk your hands away. Lumps. Tentatively, you slowly raise your hands to feel yourself again. It's not your imagination. It's not your fears playing tricks on you—two hard lumps on your head.

It's happening. It's really happening!

'Don't be afraid,' he says.

'Will it-will it hurt more?'

'Yes.'

He rubs your shoulders more deeply as you gasp at another stab of pain. You knuckle your eyes. Despite the cloak, you're shivering worse than ever. You clench and open your hands, trying to keep the blood flowing, but they feel as cold as ice. Your feet are the same. Nausea surges. Cold sweat beads your forehead. Goosebumps erupt all over you.

You try to stand, staggering into the monster's arms as he helps you up. Your knees bow. It seems you can no longer hold your own weight. 'Get me-get me away from here.' You look away from the mauled buck.

He helps you hobble away, far enough that the carcass vanishes behind the trees. Even such a small effort has sucked the energy right out of you. You're wheezing and everything's a blur as the monster half-carries you.

You reach a shallow stream of water bubbling over a scattering of rocks. Together you sit. Slumping in his lap, you brace your chin on his shoulder. You're so weak you can barely hold your head up, a far cry from your powerful sprint through the trees only minutes before.

You shiver worse as he washes the buck's blood off your hands and face.

'If you'd stayed at the castle, we could have done this in the hot springs,' he says.

You don't respond. You can't respond. Your head is spinning. You want to throw up. The headache is getting worse, moment by moment until it's so bad it turns the night bright and you have to shut your eyes. He rubs you down as you tremble in his arms.

Then it comes—that familiar smell of oranges. All you can do is suck in a terrified breath as the seizure takes you.

Pain. Darkness. Then that horrible, heavy grogginess, like the whole world is pressing down on you. You try to open your eyes but it's impossible. Your limbs weigh a tonne. All you can do is breathe and fear.

Something is tickling your head and face. It's nice. It makes you feel good. With a groan, you press your face into whatever it is touching you. It's warm and big. A hand. Slowly, you realise that someone's stroking you.

He's stroking you.

Finally, you manage to wrench open your eyes. It takes several moments for his blurry figure to coalesce into something distinct; black horns, massive shoulders, reptilian eyes ...

He's holding you in his lap, your head braced up against his strong left arm. The cloak has fallen away and you're naked again, your breasts exposed. He could touch them if he wanted, he could do anything if he wanted, but he doesn't. Instead, he runs his fingers through your hair, then touches your cheek. He's smiling a gentle smile, as gentle as it can be for a monster like him.

'Is it over?' you croak.

His smile thins. 'No.'

And the way he says it terrifies you.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you yank your knees up high against your chest as you grab at your head with a shriek. Pain! Like you haven't yet felt. No longer cold, your body is burning. You're so hot you throw yourself out of his arms, desperate for the cool air.

On your knees in the grass, you shut your eyes and dig your fingers into your scalp. It feels like your head is going to explode! But that's not all. Your back, your arms, legs and shoulders—everything feels like it's being stabbed with knives. You gag, then vomit as you feel the same thing deep in your bowels. You feel a hot trickle of urine between your legs as your bladder loosens.

You scream again and again at the cramping in your legs. Your bones feel like they're being twisted and yanked. The tips of your toes and fingers feel like they're being pricked by millions of tiny needles. But out of all of it, the pain in your chest is the worst. Your ribs are on fire and it makes it almost impossible to breathe. All you can manage are desperate little pants. You're suffocating!

'Make it stop!'

Hands upon you. A hard body against you. A voice speaking words you can barely hear and don't understand. He holds you tight as you thrash and buck, jerk and writhe. Pain. Pain! PAIN!

'MAKE IT STOP!'

You give a strangled cry as something pops in the sides of your scalp. You feel a warm gush down both sides of your neck. It matts your hair and splatters against your face. The agony is so intense you black out. You come to again in what might be moments or minutes or hours in a confused fog.

But the pain continues—and it's only the beginning.