Heaven

had always liked the idea of flying.

It

started when she watched her mom dance on the hill near their old

cabin.

However,

it’s only when she got to actually dance she realized that as much

as dancing was close to flying, she could also hurt or lose her

wings. And she could fall—hard. Like

now.

For

the past fourteen years, she has been training in dance. The last

seven years is when she started training professionally, though.

Now

she’s in her finals. But dance just had a huge breakup with her.

She

failed, which means she doesn’t get a job in the National Dance

Company—her dream job—and she won’t earn a good recommendation

into any other big dance companies.

She’s

a rogue, once again. Always a rogue.

As

much as she doesn’t want to remain a rogue forever, she has no

choice but to. Seven years ago when she was only fourteen, her rogue

parents were murdered, and she fled from the wolf world with a vow

never to return.

She

decided to stay in the human world.

Her

first months in the human world were tough. She experienced extreme

brutality, sexual assaults, and several inhumane treatments until she

took to sleeping near the school building with the hope that the

school’s security would protect her.

That

was how she heard of the scholarship audition in

the school of dance.

Then, she thought she only needed a roof above her head and food in

her belly. So, she auditioned for the scholarship and surprisingly

passed.

Later,

she started taking it seriously. She found more joy in dancing for a

professional purpose than dancing like her mother, who did it as a

healing exercise.

However,

once again, everything has snapped and shattered.

She

knows this is what affected her dance—her anger for the world. It

haunts her wherever she goes. It’s even now seeming as if the

entire universe finds pleasure in frustrating her. And she doesn’t

have a clue of how to fight it.

She

can’t go back to the school lodge. She’ll only feel more

miserable about her existence, especially when she sees the final

years who passed celebrating in the lodge lobby.

No.

She can’t put herself through all that.

“As

long as he’s not an Alpha, I can endure it,” she

mutters to herself.

What’s

there not to endure? He’s just a wolf, after all. Yes, she may meet

other wolves too, and maybe even an Alpha, but it doesn’t mean

she’ll be living with the latter.

“Stalking

me wasn’t a good call, Mister,” she says to the man who’s still

standing. “Why should I trust you now?”

Ziason

turns to face Heaven. Instead

of answering the question immediately, the side of his

lips pull up into a smirk, yet that doesn’t affect the vivid look

of his eyes.

The

same eyes that draw Heaven’s attention like a magnet to iron, that

are shielded beneath thick brows and long clustered lashes. And it

doesn’t help that his pompadour-styled ebony

hair

falls over his forehead in moist strands, highlighting a certain kind

of visual ecstasy that Heaven didn’t know existed.

“I

know a lot about you, Heaven Litotes,”

he finally responds. And

Heaven finds it hard to believe he even knows her full name. “I

know there are no records of you in the werewolf world, which means

you are a rogue. And in the human world, your school record says you

lost your parents when you were fourteen. It states you do not know

how they disappeared. I like to know the secrets and the weak spots

of whoever I’m working with. But, with you, there’s nothing.

Honestly, it’s thrilling. It makes me want to find out more about

you. And, believe me, I will.”

For

some reason, Heaven enjoys the challenge. She didn’t think she

would love something so weird and probably twisted, but she does.

Maybe

it’s the kind of person she would have grown to become had her

parents not died, thereby turning her life completely upside down.

“I’ll

do it,” she affirms,

thrusting her long slender chin forward. “I’ll teach your child

how to dance. But then you’ll have to pay me.”

For

the first time, Heaven sees what looks like a genuine smile come

across Ziason’s face. He approaches Heaven again, this time

stretching his right hand out to her.

“You

are a strong one, Heaven,” he

mumbles, “it’s

why I picked you for this job.”

Heaven

accepts the hand and covertly turns it to the back—just to make

sure he has no scar on that hand. There’s none, thankfully.

She

looks up to catch Ziason’s gaze as he stares down at her. It’s

quite enthralling,

a dark shade swirling around his narrowed eyes.

Heaven

doesn’t know what it is, but this man in front of her screams of

danger from all round; his dressing, his thick hair that’s styled

to loom over his forehead down to his eyes, not to talk of the eyes

themselves.

The

blank intensity in their stare look so unnatural, and their

color—it’s a bit uncanny.

One

moment, they’re a rich dim red, sort of burgundy.

The

next moment, they adopt the shade of ashes.

And

moments like now when she’s sticking her gaze on them and catching

their color switching only feels unearthly,

as

if there’s

magic settled beneath his irises.

She

should be scared of him.

His

stalking

habit should have already convinced her to run for her dear life.

Plus, entering a slick car that belongs to a total stranger isn’t

how anyone should end such a stormy and gloomy night.

But

Heaven thinks she knows all the dangers in the world.

In

this past seven years, she has gone through most of the things anyone

in their 70s can boost of experiencing, so she forgot the meaning of

danger.

She

has forgotten the meaning of anything in fact, except fear. Not fear

of anyone. Fear of herself.

Heaven

has always been scared of feeling miserable. Because it’s that

feeling that brings about self-sabotage—the disgust for herself and

her existence.

It’s

why she didn’t succumb to Lulu and Hector’s request. Because if

she did, she’d only hate herself, and end up thinking of several

ways to get rid of herself. She can only do that by suicide. That’s

the last thing she wants right now.

No

matter how she looks at it, she still wants to live. She wants to

prove to this forsaken world that she can make it. It wants her to

fail, but she won’t let it watch her do so.

Ziason

squishes Heaven’s hand softly. “Let’s go?”

She

nods before he leads

the way to his car.

The

vehicle reeks of the man alone; the smell of first rain showers

meeting scorched earth, with a hint of calming mildness that Heaven

can’t decipher.

But

that’s not his wolf smell. His wolf scent rather lingers—like a

vivid

aroma of pinewood.

She loves the latter scent more, and wishes it was thicker.

Aside

from that, Heaven also notices the squealing

luxury in the car. She has never boarded a limousine before, and she

never for once thought the seat arrangement was different from any

other car. Now she knows.

Rubbing

the fine leather of the seat, she can’t help but smile before

looking at the man, who’s sitting opposite her.

“That

is your contract. Go through it,” he mutters while gesturing to a

thick paper by his side.

Heaven

immediately reaches for it. Then she scans its wordings with her

eyes.

She

already knows she has to teach a seven-year-old how to dance.

However, she’s only now finding out she has to live in a lonely

place with the girl alone for five years. No phone. No way of

contacting the outer world.

“Is

this right? Five years. Isn’t it too much to have me locked up for

such a long time?” she voices her displeasure.

Ziason

gives her a perfect response. “Have you seen the numbers you will

be get?”

Yes,

she’s looking at it right now. Three billion rakis per month. And

it’s cash.

“Are

you that wealthy?” she asks even though it’s a dumb one, seeing

his vehicle alone.

“If

you had to pick between half a decade of freedom with nothing, and

five years of bondage with all your expenses covered while receiving

such amount every month, which would you chose?” Ziason queries

nonchalantly.

Heaven

doesn’t reply. She isn’t even thinking about it. She just stares

at the digits, her brain totally blank.

“Let

us ditch the future, regard the present,” Ziason continues. “What

happens when you reject this and walk out of this car? You return to

the lodge, realize you are really doomed, then you repeat final year

while struggling with your part-time jobs. But at the end of the

year, you still gain nothing. No better jobs. More frustration. Even

if you decide it’s a waste of time to repeat final year, and decide

to drop out, your life still won’t turn any better.”

Heaven

heard everything he said, yet only the last sentence stuck—the one

that finally wakes her up.

“Who

says I were rejecting the offer?” she asks the man. “My mind was

already made up the moment I dialed your contact.”

Heaven

proceeds to sign the contract, placing it back on Ziason’s seat and

leaning back in hers to watch the man with a deadpan expression.

Ziason

smirks, then looks out the window behind her just as the car kicks

off. “Your bravery astounds me, Heaven,” he mutters while

returning his gaze to Heaven.

He

finds her still staring. Not many people have been able to look at

him straight up like that, or hold his gaze. Only his brothers could

afford to do that, yet here’s this tiny redhead girl in her little

coat staring at him like he’s her next plaything.

But

then she doesn’t know, does she, about who he really is?

“Tell

me, Heaven,” he starts while squinting his eyes and cocking his

head to the side, “what is your beef with Alphas?”

The

question takes Heaven by surprise. She remains calm, nevertheless.

“Nothing,” she lies, “why?”

“It’s

just… I heard when you said

‘as long as he’s not an Alpha’.

You might have said it beneath your breath, but my wolf ears picked

it up, you know. Does it have to do with you being a dormant wolf,

and envying those with stronger abilities?”

Heaven’s

eyes widen a bit at the last question. “You discovered that too?”

“I

did. It’s the very first thing I noticed about you.”

“I’m

not ashamed of that.” Heaven shrugs. “My rogue father with a

dormant wolf married my rogue mother with a dormant wolf. Together,

they had a dormant wolf, though my mom’s advantage is that her

lineage has an amazing skill of healing people.”

“So

you are a healer of some sort?”

“Not

really. The ability never passed down to me.”

“So,

basically, the only thing you know how to do is dance.”

Heaven

looks away with a nod.

“How

about fuck?” Ziason suddenly asks again, earning a sharp glare from

the girl. He doesn’t mind her glower as he continues, “every

woman should, at least, know the basics of pleasing a man.”

“I

have no intention to please any man,” Heaven nearly snaps, “and

please add it in the contract that on no account should both parties

cross the boundaries of the other. My boundaries are not to talk to

me about anything relating to sex, and do not try to sexualize me in

any way.”

Ziason

looks out the window. “No worries. I have no interest in women

either.”

“Good.”

But…

If

he isn’t interested in women, what else would he have an interest

in when he’s looking so hot?

.

.

.

______

Wolf

Kingdom.

Moon’s

Wrath Pack.

The

car soon stops after a long journey.

Between

Ziason and Heaven, it has been absolutely silent after that talk of

sex. Both seem to enjoy the quietude too.

Someone

opens the door from outside the car. Since it’s his side, Ziason

steps out first without bothering to help Heaven.

She

follows slowly behind him while dwelling more on checking out her

surrounding—a large compound floored with old bricks, rounded by a

great fence that looks like it could fall at any minute, and

harboring a round tower of dark stone walls that rises in uneven

layers, several narrow slits in the walls serving as windows.

A

cool air of damp limestone and old iron whizzes past Heaven’s nose,

and—due to the silence within the vicinity—she suspects there may

be fewer or no souls living around the area.

Glancing

up, there aren’t any electric wire crossings either, which means

Ziason wasn’t kidding when he told her to forfeit her phone. He

really was bringing her to an uncivilized area.

“Just

out of curiosity, Mr. Father,” Heaven starts while jogging to catch

up with Ziason’s long strides, “would I be allowed the liberty to

use a TV, at least? I cant be dancing everyday all year long, and

I’ll certainly grow bored.”

The

man

doesn’t respond. Instead, he pushes open the heavy, iron, double

doors of the tower that usher them into a large abandoned-looking

hall.

Heaven

gasps as she takes in the view of the hall as musky air clouds her

smell. Since it’s empty, she can’t help but envision the looks of

it when there were still people living in the tower.

Gazing

up, she notices that the dim lit building rises in tiers, the view as

if staring at a coiled snake of balustrade.

With

no ceiling in sight, the top looks unending, the whole structure

winding up in a spiral pattern with open floors—as in inner

balconies—protected by balustrades, each floor topping another like

an atrium.

Across

the double doors is the start of a stairway, where stands a

nervous-looking man in brown suit.

Heaven

catches him bowing to Ziason, who casually hands him the contract

while halting in his front and mumbling, “Satisfactory?”

The

way Ziason looks at the man seems to intimidate him. The latter dares

not return the gaze, so he just mopes at the contract.

“Uh…

Yes— yes, sir,” he stutters.

Heaven

is confused, and doesn’t seem to figure out what’s going on as

Ziason fakes a smile at the man before going up the stairs.

She

she trails behind him, she has the urge to ask of the man’s

identity, and why he looked so scared of Ziason. But she couldn’t

find the courage to, so she simply drops the questions.

“This

building looks really old from outside, yet how is it so refined on

the inside?” she queries instead, trailing her fingers along the

rough balustrade edges as they slowly climb up the unending flights

of stairs.

“Maintenance,”

Ziason simply utters.

“Isn’t

it dangerous to stay in it? I mean, it could crumble at any time.”

“It

has been standing for nearly a century, Heaven. It will not fall on

your head, I promise.”

When

they reach the uppermost floor of the tower, they walk through the

dark and chilly inner balcony that has several closed doors, which

probably belong to rooms.

Ziason

uses his phone torchlight to lead the way, as one could barely tell

daytime from nighttime from up here.

At

a point, he opens one of the doors and stands aside for Heaven to

enter the room. The girl hesitates before doing so.

“This

will be your room,” he tells her.

“Not

bad.” She shrugs.

The

room would be exactly her type had she ever had a private one—big

enough to her taste, aged walls that pull the faint scent of autumn,

a four-post bed at the center that’s encircled by a black mosquito

net draping from its canopy, and about four candle sconces on each

wall with lighted candles casting warm glows across the room.

One

small uncovered window lets in fresh air and some light that chases

musk and darkness. And the fireplace doesn’t seem to have been used

for ages, telling from how cold the room is. But it’s well-kept

anyways.

“I

love the dark aesthetics of the place,” Heaven begins after some

moments of silent appreciation, “but what about the kid?”

Ziason

gestures for her to come out of the room. When she does, he closes

the door and continues walking through the floor.

Heaven

counts the doors they walk pass until the seventeenth door after

hers. That’s where Ziason stops, opening the door.

The

room’s décor isn’t any different from Heaven’s. Except,

there’s a little girl clad in a silk white robe sitting

cross-legged on the bed, her wavy hair cascading down her shoulders

to favor the bed sheet.

She

jumps out of the bed with a smile the moment she sights Ziason,

running to the duo and clasping her little body around Ziason’s

left leg.

The

man pats her head while crouching down.

“How

have you been, my little lamb?” he coos, even though his deep voice

betrays him.

The

child nods in response.

“What’s

her name?” Heaven asks.

“Kaicha.”

Ziason rises to his full height. “Do not bother asking her

anything, though. She would not respond.”

“Seriously,

why?”

No

response.

Kaicha

looks up at Heaven, jamming gazes with the latter’s.

She’s

a redhead like Heaven, though hers is a little darker—as in

burgundy.

And her eyes are so sharp that for some reason Heaven starts to feel

like she’s staring directly into her mother’s orbs.

She

quickly shakes the feeling off with a question, “Does she listen to

instructions?”

Ziason

nods. “Very well.”

“And

her mother?”

“She

left me with Kaicha and left.”

“She

wasn’t prepared for motherhood, eh?”

Ziason

shrugs. “I will have her maid bring food for you as well. The maid

will also prepare your bath and every other thing you may need.”

“So,

will you show me where the dance practice room is?” Heaven

asks while moving out of the room.

“The

ballroom, you mean?” Ziason

follows suit. “It’s

on the floor before the ground floor. Come.”

The

two adults board the stairs again. When they reach the second floor,

Ziason brings Heaven to a hall introduced through the very first door

in the floor. It’s smaller than the bottom hall, yet Heaven can

already feel her feet itching to slide on its appropriately slick

floors.

“It’s

my first time seeing a medieval ballroom,” she giggles.

Ziason

huffs while leaning against the wall. “It is empty, Heaven, and the

floors were modified recently to fit your practice. You do not think

these floors existed back then, do you?”

“Well,

what do I know?”

“Besides,

most content of this tower have either been destroyed or given away.

If this room still had its matters, you would have been absolutely

astonished by its whole look.”

“Why

did you give away the ones that weren’t destroyed, then?”

Ziason

pushes himself from the wall and leaves the hall, heading for the

stairs. “To forget past memories.”

Heaven

jogs to catch up with him. “I won’t ask about the memories, so

how about the kind of dance you want me to teach Kaicha? We haven’t

clarified that.”

“Any

type that speaks to the soul.”

“Oh…”

Heaven stops at the stair

landing

and watches Ziason hurry down the remaining steps

to the bottom hall.

“As

this has been settled, sir, is it okay for you release my family

now?” the man in brown suit, still standing close to the stairs,

asks Ziason who has

already rushed past him.

“Oh,

right! How could I have forgotten that?” Ziason mutters as he

suddenly turns back and approaches the man. “You were such a

patient lawyer, David, and a good one. It will be so sad to lose

you.”

“What?”

Panic strikes across David’s expression that instant, confusing

Heaven again as he raps breathlessly, “I swear, I don’t know this

lady or why you need her! I don’t know a single thing and neither

does my family! Please, let us go, I’m begging you!”

Ziason

nonchalantly pauses in front of David, his hands resting in his pants

pockets as he tilts his head down to stare intently at the lawyer. “I

WILL… let your family go,” he whispers with a tight smile.

David

doesn’t seem to buy it. “Alpha, pleas—”

Ziason

waves his right hand closely across the man’s neck with a sharp

movement. Heaven would swear she saw the long nail of Ziason’s

index finger slice through the man’s throat right before blood

gushes out. But, even at that moment, she’s gobsmacked at David’s

last words.

“You—

you’re an Alpha?” she whispers to Ziason, who merely glances up

at her before making for the door again.

Heaven

dashes after him. However, before she could fully clear the stairs,

Ziason was already out.

She

tries to open the door and discovers it’s locked. Banging on it

doesn’t even solve a thing.

It

dawns on her only then that she really is a captive in this tower for

five freaking years. But, also, Ziason is an Alpha. And he killed the

lawyer without even batting an eyelid.

How

can she be certain he would not kill her as well?

“Oh

my god…” she mutters while leaning against the door and sliding

down to a crouch.

Deceit.

That’s what this is.

All

this while, Ziason deceived her. He made her believe this job offer

wall full of roses, but now she’s seeing all the dark patches in

it.

She

should have known it would amount to no good when he bought her

freedom. Killing the lawyer, then being an Alpha, is what opened her

senses to the stink of true danger.

How

come she didn’t smell that in his essence—wasn’t an Alpha’s

aura supposed to be heady? Or is it true what the books say that an

Alpha can mask his aura?

Heaven

can’t help but retract her thoughts to when she first met Ziason at

the bridge. If only she had looked closer or listened to the quiet

voice that tried to defy her decision, she would not have fallen into

this trap.

Now,

recalling his absolute gentleness to Kaicha earlier feels weird to

her. Because how on earth can a person swiftly switch from

softhearted to hardhearted in such a small period of time?

Who

knows what he’ll do next—not paying her for the entire five

years, and then killing her? And the girl, why’s he taking so much

measures just to teach her dance? Why would he kill the lawyer, or

even capture the lawyer’s family?

Unless…

Ziason did not plan to follow the contract, which could have been a

ploy to lure Heaven into compliance. Since he succeeded in bringing

her here, he then had to kill the lawyer, who was the only other

person who seemed to know about the contract.

Speaking

of the contract, it’s there in the pool of the lawyer’s blood.

Sinking in the fluid. Reduced to a mere paper.

And

Heaven wonders, what if this man’s fate ends up being hers?

.

.

.

.

_________

Heaven’s

eyes gradually open to the blurry view of a wooden ceiling rippling

in twos and threes.

She

feels a solid barrier at her back that tells her she’s lying

directly on the floor instead of a woolen blanket. And when a cold,

smooth touch grazes her arm, she could tell it’s her mother even

before the woman’s blurry face lingers over hers.

She

wants to lift her hand to reciprocate the woman’s touch. But she

realizes she can’t move.

“Mom…

why— why can’t I move?” she stutters.

“Shh…”

her mother hushes as that ever-loving cold touch reaches Heaven’s

jaw.

“Why

are you crying?” Heaven asks again when the blur clears a bit to

reveal the tears on her mother’s smiling face.

“They

are here,” her father’s voice comes.

“Who’s

here?” Heaven queries in panic, still struggling to move but can’t.

“Heaven,

listen to me. An Alpha is trying to kill us all,” her mother raps

while cupping Heaven’s cheeks. “I fed you with Death’s Look

pills so that you’d seem dead, but you should be fine in the next

twenty-four hours.” The woman sniffles before her next words come

out amidst tears, her voice croaking. “Please leave this place as

soon as you can move. Go somewhere far away—the human world should

suffice—and never return to this world. Please, avoid as many

Alphas as you can. Do not come back here, Heaven. Heed my warning.”

The

woman disappears from her sight in a flash. Heaven tries to speak

again, to call her back, but even her tongue has stopped moving.

Soon,

her brain becomes an absolute hazy mess. And she can’t seem to

think straight as she slowly blacks out.

Heaven

doesn’t know for how long she stayed unconscious. When next she

opens her eyes, she hears muffled clashing noises that urges her to

turn to her right.

It’s

still a strain to move, very painful too, but Heaven grasps all she

needs to see with a short look—two sets of feet facing each other;

one belonging to her father, the other unknown. Blood spilling to the

floor. Her father’s wounded body slumping to the same floor as the

owner of the other feet crouches down while reaching to her father’s

neck with a crimson-coated dagger, thereby revealing the scar

slashing diagonally from the index knuckle to the wrist of that hand.

Seeing

her father that helpless and dying makes her scream. Even as the

scenery suddenly changes to reveal the wooden roof of a fourposter

bed, Heaven continues shouting at the top of her voice.

She

only calms down some seconds later, when she realizes it was a

nightmare. A damn nightmare… which actually isn’t just a

nightmare.

Seven

years ago, it happened. Since then, it has been haunting her.

She

hasn’t had the nightmare for quite a while, though. But now it’s

back. It tends to return whenever she’s scared; whenever her fear

for herself triggers. That’s when she sees the bloody, horrid

images.

Now

it only reminds her of her plight—The tower, Ziason, him being an

Alpha.

Heaven

suddenly sits up to realize she has been lying in bed all this time.

Last she could recall, she was in the ground hall, sitting against

the door. Did she sleep off? Did someone bring her here?

The

faint breeze sipping through the only window in the room draws her

attention to it. It’s small. Really small. But it doesn’t mean it

can’t fit a human who can pull enough bravery to climb the tower

walls—particularly why Heaven, as she notices it now, does not like

the fact that the window is open and without protection.

She

quickly gets out of the bed and makes for Kaicha’s room. The little

girl is tucked in her bed, sleeping. It makes Heaven wonder for how

long she herself has been asleep.

With

cautious steps, she walks across Kaicha’s room to window, which is

identical to Heaven’s. Except, the view outside it is entirely

different from hers.

Beyond

the huge old fence, there are arrays of buildings portrayed on that

side of the tower; rows of bungalows, and a crowd within the linear

building arrangement. Those must be his pack.

Far,

far beyond the houses are mountains covered in fog. But Heaven can’t

fathom much of that due to the approaching dusk.

Aside

from the main gate, there’s a small single gate crafted in the

tower’s fence, which leads directly into the pack’s streets. And

it’s from that gate Heaven sees Ziason now stepping through into

the compound, locking it thoroughly with a chain before entering the

tower.

Heaven

quickly gets out of the room and hurries downstairs. However, Ziason

had already entered the building by the time she reached the last

floor.

She

notices the gruesome sight of his lawyer was gone, as well as the

contract. But then some noises coming from the hall next to the

ground hall draw Heaven’s attention to it.

She

finds Ziason running on a treadmill, his back turned to her.

Now

it’s no surprise why he said he came by often, seeing as there are

modern gym equipment inside a bloody old tower.

One

major distraction of the view in front of her would be the ripples of

Ziason’s wide back that matches the veins and ridges of his heavy

limbs. But something else pulls Heaven’s stare—a tattoo inked

over every inch of his back.

However,

she later notices it looks more natural than a tattoo, or…

something sort of strange to be on a person’s skin.

The

only reason an art would feel that way is if it had an otherworldly

meaning, as in linked to extreme dark magic.

Like…

a curse?

Heaven

may not know much about the wolf world, but she certainly has read

some things; like how the mark of a cursed wolf is a tattoo that

drives down a bizarre feeling.

The

tattoo could be anything. It could be random dots. It could be the

full-on image of a person. In all, it signifies a state of revulsion.

Being

cursed is usually an abominable thing in the lupine world. But that

certainly has nothing to do with Heaven now.

“You

didn’t tell me you were an Alpha,” she utters instead, fear

threading through her heart despite her show of bravery.

When

Ziason cranes his neck to glance at her direction, she nearly

swallows her throat, strange ropes knotting in her belly.

“Do

you hear me, Ziason?” she summons the courage to ask again. When

the man still doesn’t respond, Heaven proceeds to scream. “You

cheated the contract!”

Ziason

presses some buttons on the treadmill to reduce its pace

until it finally stops. Then he gradually steps down from it while

grabbing a small towel from its handle bar.

Turning

around, he approaches Heaven with deliberate movements, wiping his

face and neck with the towel.

Heaven

fights to resist the temptation of staring hungrily at his

moisture-laden

abs,

each step Ziason takes striking her heart like a drum.

And

the nearer he comes to her, the louder and faster her heart pounds.