"I want to see you in your feral form," she said.
"I am not pleasing to see in that form," he replied.
"You are a skilled lover; what about your wolf? I never see you fighting in that form. They called you 'the exterminator' because you can kill dozens of enemies in one swift move when in your feral form. I want to see that strength," she said.
Damoen smiled. She was possessive, particularly in bed. She considered his body her territory, and she had no compunction about laying claim whenever he got near. Not that he minds. She wanted to own his body and soul. He didn't mind, but he was afraid that he might disappoint her.
They were lying in bed after their early morning mating. His mate stayed with him and slept beside him. He watched her sleep, and after midnight he drifted off to sleep, smelling her sweet scents. Outside was dark, as they wouldn't see light for the next one hundred and sixty days.
