Hideaway Strath I tell myself you don't mean a thing

"You love me."

He swallowed, hard. 

Did he? The word love was never one he'd been accustomed to using. He had never loved anyone before. Is this what it meant?

The white woman smiled, which made his heart flutter faintly. Then she came closer and graced him with an affectionate gesture. In this moment, all of the nightmares he had faded from memory. The moments of guilt and hatred fluttered away. He felt nothing. Nothing, except for inner warmth.

Arashi remained still for a moment, unsure of whether to return the gesture? Was it proper? Hell no. She was his Warchief, his queen, his mistress. But at the end of the day, she was the only true being he cared for in this lifetime.

Screw it.

Chuffing softly, or as softly as his rough vocals would allow, the hound stroked her ear with his tongue and then proceeded to offer a nuzzle upon the flat of her cranium.

For once in his life, he had been granted the opportunity for someone to see him as anything other than a killer; a murderer; a puppet meant only to claim blood and return it to those who demanded it. And in this, pure content was the ultimate result.