he held fast.
no.she was lanzadoii; he could not raise his hurt to her. she was woman, and he had learned this lesson also. more than that, the shimmer of guilt which sparked low in cen made of the crying-wind an idol.
she submitted. she questioned.
but unlike sharadoii, cen did not think iglux̂ might rise to his blows.
i chose wrong too often. let me show you what choosing correct might be.
dizzily, he thought for her that he might even surrender the darktoothed desire clapped to gummy boards inside the splintering wall of his untrustworthy chest.
he would not seek to harm. he would not seek to mold. it was a monumental step for a man used to having all his way, and yet this was not the moment in which to falter.
tongue grazed mouth. his breath snuck to warm her flesh, her fur.
cen lapped rain from fur and soft snow from pelt.
he would not admit to the fear and yet it resounded all the same.
