“They attacked you.” She grabbed his chin, tilting his face to examine a scratch down his cheek. “They hurt you,” she growled. “They aren’t allowed to hurt you. You’re mine.” His head turned back to her. In an instant, his eyes went from stormy gray to pitch black. “What did you say?” “You’re mine.” The words came out layered with challenge, daring him to deny it, her shaded calm somehow mixing with anger and possessive fury. Then she grabbed his head, fingers hooked in his horns, and kissed him. Her kiss was harsh, fierce, demanding. Aggressive.
