Since the minute she allowed me back into her life, the urge to have her marked as mine has been clawing at me day and night. I don’t believe in ceremony. I don’t need to sign some stupid piece of paper handed to me by a nameless clerk to claim her as my own. Or a geezer in funny clothes to proclaim her as so. If any man dares to approach my cub to steal her from me, I’ll just snap his neck. But still . . . I stroke her ring finger one more time,
