"You do not really need this Phobos," I murmur rising on my tiptoes attempting to gently push back his inky hood that does a flawless job of shielding his features from sight.
He swiftly seizes my slender wrists with his palms in a mildly tight grip and peers down at me with his narrowed yet cautious globes. He has never lifted his hood in a foreign pack, never unveiled himself to others but his own yet here I am trying to bring him into the light.
"Trust me," I utter gazing up at him with my gleaming nordic blues and his hold on me gradually slackens enabling me to fully expose his face to display. "There is my barbarian." I giggle trying to ease his stress as I set the hood to rest against the nape of his neck.
I sense waves of tension radiating from him that reveals to me his dislike of the situation but I am eager to show him the warmth my old pack possesses, to show him how they shall cordially receive him as their own. These two days will be delightful, I know it.
