Drawing upon what little willpower he’d retained, he reached forward and buried a hand in her hair, cradling the back of her head. She met his gaze with rounded eyes. “You are mine, Ivy,” he said, his voice rough and raw. “My nyleea. I will not hurt you.” Her brow creased as she searched his eyes. Slowly, some of her fear bled away, and a trusting light bolstered her gaze. “I know you won’t. I…I just don’t know what this is.” “This is the Claiming.”
