gentleman, is she rly your wife if you don't kill her once?

I think I would like that. Wouldn’t you? she asked him with a slight curl of her lips, making sure to look up at him through long, curling lashes. Her wolf had always been so serious, so dour when there was no need to. But perhaps that was somewhat her fault in the years after she had summoned him. Mythal had infused him with such responsibility, such knowledge and it was a heavy, heavy mantle to bear.

A mantle that he had borne by himself for so so long.

To see him smile, to see the heat in his eyes… she wanted it. She wanted all of it.

Her arms lifted out from her sides and she closed the slight distance between them, pressing her body to his. Those same arms wound round his neck, fingertips grazing down from hairline to nape, over and over again.

We would have to be quiet though, so so very quiet. Dark eyes sparkled at him as she issued her challenge. Do you think I could keep quiet as you painted me, Feredir? I think I could.