“Warwick…” I choked. “Szeretlek.” I love you. His sentiment was husky and full of many layers, going far beyond the general meaning. Burrowing deep and claiming me. “Sötét démonom.” His shadow muttered against my neck. There was no need to say more; I felt his response grazing against my soul, forcing my lids to squeeze briefly together at the intensity. “Az én farkasom.” My wolf. My own claim wrapped around him, branding into his bones, marking him mine forever. In life and death.
