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I don't want him to ever feel ashamed around me. There's nothing wrong with him; it's me that has to adjust to life here.
"Har-loh mine." His voice is so possessive as he leans in and nips at my ear, repeating the words. "Har-loh mine."
"Rukh mine," I tell him softly. I smile up at him, all dopey-eyed pleasure, and run my hand along his chest. This makes him happy, too. He gives me a fierce look, as if he likes the idea of me calling him mine.
