Noctisardor Bypass [m] can you shatter my mirror to see outside myself

laurel had found him, and weakened him. he did not understand why she should pull him so terribly when the woman had done no more than iana. 
but now laurel stood shrouded in the same sort of malaise that had brought a man below mahler's jaws, and ended that interlude with wylla into strips of iron.
she was not wylla, and this he reminded himself fervently, helplessly rooted to the loam of his favoured bypass as laurel sauntered closer. gone the shy woman, gone the meek woman, gone even the terrified woman. in her place, a lamia, serpentine step and the hardfire of her hazel eyes, resting upon him. wanting. demanding.
there was no capitulation in laurel. mahler found himself caught up between his own most natural want, and the pledge he had made, long before wylla said
i'll come to rivenwood.
a cough, ringing in the dimming air between them.
"i am bound to this place. to my children. and to vylla," mahler ventured, hating himself for it as mind's lust urged him to encircle laurel last, last before he made his place alongside the one he loved — further loathing then, to be so aware and yet not.
he stepped too, meeting the desirous fecund she-wolf where she stood, her scent drilling into all pores of himself, reaching to her despite all the fevered shouting of his mind. "so you see, i cannot," a strangled whisper dividing a line that rushed with the waters of her, all along the boundaries of himself.