"What does it mean... that I'm your Beloved?"
Black Fang's fingers pressed harder against her belly, where the warmth was spreading.
"Explain yourself."
Quinlan's eyebrow rose.
He looked at the woman standing with her back to him, purple light still bleeding from the cracks in the stone around her, and the question sat between them with a weight that deserved a proper answer.
But first things first.
As a proper gentleman, Quinlan had things to do.
He turned to Myrasyn.
"Thank you for taking good care of me, Elf Queen."
Black Fang's eyes narrowed dangerously. The purple spirals slowed.
Was he ignoring her predicament that clearly came to be as a result of his unique existence?
Myrasyn was still on her knees.
