Bearclaw Valley [m] Increasingly common practise of grill parties and consensual cannibalism

His lack of confidence in this matter stood in contrast to his self-assured mien of norm. Aventus hid a good many of his thoughts and feelings beneath a poised veneer, but that’s all it was. He had many coping mechanisms and survival strategies for the life he lived. Merrick had not always been a charitable father. In many ways, he was as put together as a businessman in a five piece suit.

But he was unable to hide his insecurity about asking Arielle to be his mate and take his name. Suppose she said no, or thought he was moving things too quickly? He rarely had occasion to show it, but under the surface, he was an incredibly passionate wolf. It came from his parents. They were not the romantic sort, but channeled their passion into bloodletting and pain. Aventus, until now, had lacked something to drive him to the same fervor. Now that Arielle was here, it burned bright in him. For her, he would rend the entire world.

Aves felt her head under his chin again before his brain processed her acceptance. You mean it? he asked, reaching to pepper her dark brow with licks, tracing the edge of her red mask with his lips. When he reached the corner of her eye, he rumbled low in his throat and rubbed the crown of his head along her cheek and down her neck like a cat. By the time Aventus was finished with her, every inch of Arielle would smell like him, and he like her, and there would be no doubt to whom he belonged.