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With a huff, he covered her mouth again. “Be silent.”
Not vrix, not animal, not spirit…what was she? His. If nothing else, she was his. He would unravel her mysteries one thread at a time if necessary. But he would not take her to Takarahl, would not bring her before the queen. He would not share her with anyone.
A gentle trill sounded in Ketahn’s throat as he exited the den.
“I would see you clad in silk.” He dropped the leaf and cupped the underside of her jaw, angling her face toward his as he took her hips between two of his hands. “I will see you clad in my silk.”
“You are mine, Ivy,” he said, his voice rough and raw. “My nyleea. I will not hurt you.”
“This is the Claiming.”
Ketahn tipped her face up closer to his. “You are mine, Ivy.”
As the darkness behind her eyelids solidified, wrapping around her like a warm, soft blanket, Ketahn rumbled, “Now you are mine, my nyleea. My mate.” He smoothed a hand over her hair. “My heartsthread.”
