only one way to slake the need, and that was by finishing the bonding process and claiming her for his own. His uxorem.
The need to claim her tore through him, gnawing at him, and he stepped faster to provide himself with some relief. Not too far this time—he couldn’t risk losing her again. It had been among the most terrifying moments of his life when he turned around to pull her closer to him within the rising storm and discovered her missing.
At first, he had been unable to comprehend that she was gone. She had been right behind him! Her sorrow had eaten at him, and it had not become any better when that sorrow had shifted into confusion, then frustration, until finally anger and resentment joined the turmoil. The chaotic flavor of her emotions had overwhelmed him, sensitive as he was to them through their bond. He could not shut off the flow from her and so had suffered in silence. Yet it was nothing compared to the terror that sprung to life in him as he imagined horrific possibilities. Of a predator or the strix herself finding his female vulnerable and alone on the mountain.
Flying into a panic, he had followed her scent the best that he could in the storm as he shouted her name, his voice drowned out by the wind. Finding her with Aquilo had instinctively made him want to exert his claim and bind her to him.
But he couldn’t do that.
To his shame, he had ignored her as much as possible, selfishly absorbed in his own discomfort and an undeniable fear of a vulnerability that he had never before experienced. Dagani was gone, but he had punished her for making him feel it even after he delivered the final peace to the crocotta by returning it to the forest.
He ran from it.
He ran so hard from everything he felt that, although he had known she was struggling, he hadn’t so much as looked behind him to make sure she was keeping up.
He had to live with that guilt. Just as he had to live with the oath he had made in haste when he thought it a small thing to offer her to soothe her. Because she was human, he had considered her inconsequential despite the warning from the vegoia. Now, however, he had greater insight into what Dorinda meant. He had understood the moment he felt Diana’s grief as if it were his own. As his uxorem, he would despair if separated from her. Even with her near, but their bond unsolidified, he felt like he was slowly fracturing.
He had been foolish, and because of that, Silvas was restrained by his promise, just as all spirits and gods were bound by their oaths.
He had not wanted her to suffer similarly, so he had blocked her out so she wouldn’t feel swayed by the hunger consuming him. It wasn’t flawless, and he felt the response in her rising to meet him every time he reconnected. Yet in the end, he had hurt her, and he didn’t know how to correct the error.
What a mess.
Raskyuil was not wrong when he predicted that Silvas would suffer more than most other males. As the son of Turan, he was born to be more susceptible to the domain of his mother, just as he had once reveled in her lifegiving power.
His thoughts turned to the dove that had fluttered before his throne just days ago. He had been certain that it was a communication from Turan, and he been both right and wrong. There was no message for him except a warning of what was to come. He saw his mother’s hands all over their predicament, and he didn’t know whether to thank her for bringing him his uxorem or to curse her for upsetting his world at such a dangerous time.
In truth, at any other time, he might have greeted the bonding with joy, but now it terrified him. Him! He who feasted on fear and was sustained by it!
Now Diana erroneously believed that he desired to get away from her. If only she knew just how wrong she was. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything. He wanted to renew the life of the Eternal Woods with a celebration of their love.
Tail flicking, he glanced back at her, unable to deny the thirst to lay his eyes on her. Her arms were crossed over her chest, holding her cloak close to her as