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“If you were raised in what I can only assume is a female-run society, and trained on how to make a wife happy, then why have you been so bossy with me?”
A low, rattling vibration, more melodic than the growl he’d directed at her before, sounded from his chest, and she jumped away.
A small, sad smile curled the corner of his mouth. He lifted his hand as if to reach out to her, then curled his fingers into a fist and dropped it back to his side. “It would mean something to me.”
Mivassi was a word that referred to a claimed alternative to your chosen spouse while under contract. Only used in the rarest of instances when a person recognized their mate while married to another.
“Your eyes were black. I don’t know how, but you were hurt in some way. And you were going to let him take you. What if you couldn’t get free?” “I would’ve found a…a way to…” Verakko’s words stuttered out as her words finally registered. “My eyes?” The world around him slammed to a halt, the thunderous pounding in his chest freezing as though even his heart feared he’d misheard her. I recognized her? She’s mine.
“You helped me survive out in the forest when I knew so little. Let me help you survive here.”
