Stavanger Bay and the earth with its starkness

Atoll let herself shrink from the intensity of his gaze, lowering her belly to the floor and looking up at him with a wet, entreating gaze. "I am sworn to carry your burdens, Skellige," she said, managing to keep the shake out of her voice. "I and my body are at your command; I will do as you say."

There, her throat stopped, her voice torn from her by sorrow strong as the crashing waves. She didn't want to give him the choice, and yet, the choice was already his. She was at his mercy, and she could either choose to grant him that power, or else have him take it by force. Atoll or not, the Leviathan would always be supreme. So let not my will, but your will be done, she thought, plagued by misery but unwilling to fold. This had always been the way of things. In her old pack, she'd been happy to give herself to the alpha. She would have been happy to give herself to Skellige.

"But... I have grown very fond of Szymon," she sighed, her words coming haltingly, this time. "I beg your favor in this; and your blessing to take him as my mate - if you have no other plans for me."

And if he did have plans, Atoll would abide. He had been good to her. So good she couldn't comprehend it, sometimes. The favor with which he'd already showered her made her feel ungrateful and churlish as she asked for yet another gift. For the man's own brother, in fact - a far more precious thing than rank or title or this home he'd provided for them all.

But I have to ask. How can I not?

Silently, Atoll watched the face of her master, waiting for his judgement.