He comes forwards, bends to place it at my feet, swiftly turns around and stalks off, his shoulders tight like he hates himself for it. For the second time, I stop breathing. I know exactly what this is. The male animus inside Savage is forcing him to give me, his regina, a gift. If we were in a normal mating group, this would be the right thing to do. The normal and expected thing. But we aren’t normal in any way, and I can’t give into the powerful urge to reach down and cradle the bag in my arms and kiss it like a baby.
