Every dark-elf of worth had claws—sharp, strong, battle-ready claws. Claws he had defended her with just earlier tonight. If they were broken, taken in battle, or maimed, it was dishonor. Weakness. Aless locked her arms around him from behind, her delicate, slender arms, with her supple, fragile skin. His lover, his partner, his wife. His human wife. He wouldn’t risk hurting her again, not for all the honor and strength in the Deep. Never again.
