Luneshale Pass Benim.

Samirseti’s grin widened, the flicker of triumph unmistakable in his golden eyes as Nefer—his little lion—melted into him. He let the moment stretch, savoring the way the tension drained from Arslan’s body, replaced by something far sweeter.

The warmth of the other’s form against his own was intoxicating, a sensation he didn’t intend to relinquish so easily.

He leaned his head down slightly, his muzzle brushing just against the top of Arslan’s head as his voice dropped into a near whisper.

“When I speak, little lion, it is
not lightly. You are mine. Not in words alone, but in the very marrow of what we are.”