The Floodlands Hold Me, Love Me, Stay With Me [m?]

Desperately, Dagfinn began to preen and groom at the woman's darker fur. Fear, lust, admiration - all strong and present, and all driving him to serve her, to make her stay. No matter what happened, he was now wrapped around her dewclaw, and the most selfish part of him wanted similar assurances from her.

"I love you," he found himself saying, foolishly. What he felt was not love - at least not yet - but a combination of several darker (though no less meaningful) emotions. Still, in his young heart, he could not tell the difference, and so when he spoke the words they were truthful enough, without any sign of deciet behind them. Perhaps if he'd known what love truly was, he would have said something else, or maybe nothing at all. But he did not know.

Burying his nose in Amber's coat, he took another deep breath of her cloying scent before submitting himself entirely - once again - to her will.