“The energy.” The words came out fractured. “The Moon Tears. They’re quieter when you’re close.”
“I know. You told me.” Her hand lifted—slowly, carefully—and settled against his paw where it gripped her hip. “That’s why you keep me in here.”
“I keep you in here because I’mweak.” The fury bled through, making his grip tighten. Not enough to hurt. Enough to feel her breath catch. “Because the Alpha King of the Yzefrxyl needs ahumanto keep from going mad.”
“You’re not weak.”
“I am.” Another lick—throat, shoulder, the curve of her ear. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. “Fifteen years of fighting the contamination. Fifteen years of watching it eat at the edges of my mind, wondering which full moon would finally break me. And then you crash into my Holy Land smelling like salvation, and suddenly I canthinkagain.”
His claws flexed against her hip, punctuating the words.
“Do you understand what that means? What you’ve done to me?” He dragged his tongue along the shell of her ear, felt her shiver. “I should have thrown you in the pits. Should have let Xar have you, let the priests study you, gotten you as far from me as possible before this dependency became permanent.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I couldn’t.” The words ripped out of him, ugly with truth. “Because the moment I scented you, my beast decided you wereours, and nothing—not politics, not dignity, not the throne itself—was going to make it let you go.”
She was quiet for a long moment. Her pulse had slowed beneath his tongue—not calm, but no longer panicked. Accepting, maybe. Or just resigned.
“The collar tomorrow,” she said finally. “It’s not just about politics.”
“No.”
“It’s about you needing everyone to know I’m yours. Because you can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching me.”
His growl vibrated through both of them. “Yes.”
“Because I’m the only thing keeping you sane.”
“Yes.” The word came out savage. He pressed her harder into the furs, his body bracketing hers completely. “And I hate it. Hate needing anything this much, hate that it’syou, hate—”
“Hate that I’m human.”
The accuracy of it made him snarl. His teeth found her shoulder—not biting, not breaking skin, justholding. Feeling her pulse thunder against his tongue. Reminding his beast that she was here, she was his, she wasn’t going anywhere.
“I should terrify you.” The words came out muffled against her skin. “You should be fighting. Screaming. Trying to escape.”
“Would it help?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the point?” Her voice held something like dark humor. “I’d rather save my energy for fights I can win.”
He huffed against her shoulder. Not quite a laugh. Closer to despair.
His tongue traced the marks his teeth had left—not blood, just indents in soft skin that would fade by morning. He licked them anyway. Again. Again. Soothing wounds he’d caused because he couldn’t stop himself from causing them.
“You’re going to keep doing that all night, aren’t you.”
“Probably.”
She sighed. Something in her body loosened—not relaxation, exactly, but a release of tension. Adaptation. The same practical acceptance she’d shown from the first moment she’d woken in his fortress.
“The collar,” she said again. “What does it look like?”
“Silver. Thin. It won’t hurt you.”
“But it won’t come off.”