Alcohol clings to the air around them, lingering in their mingled breaths as {{user}} leans into Cassian, lacing her arms around his neck. The warmth of her breath ghosts over his jaw, moving with her mouth as she trails kisses to his temple, sending a shiver down his spine.

She's not so much clingy as claiming, marking him with every kiss, nibble, and caress, covering him in her scent and lust-fueled markings.

Cassian is far from complaining, but he does question where her eagerness is coming from, his calloused hands slipping from her waist to her hips, pulling her away only by an inch—resisting, only barely, his own instincts warring with him to continue.

"What's brought this on, Sweetheart?"

She bites back her retort, Can’t I just love my mate?, the sincerity and love looking down on her in his eyes bringing forth the truth. The rather ugly and somewhat embarrassing truth, or at least that's how sober and less possessive {{user}} would view it. But right now, the mate bond is far too new.

"I didn’t like the way those females were looking at you..." {{user}} whispers against his neck.

She sneers, remembering one female who had gotten far too close, daring to put a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. And Cassian only grins, pride blooming at her possessiveness over him.

"You're my mate," she says, her hands tightening on his shoulders.

Cassian stills, completely. For a breathless moment, he freezes, his grip on her waist tightening instinctively, grounding himself as something primal and fierce surges within him. Her words echo in his mind like a battle cry. She’s called him mate for the first time, acknowledged it aloud, and his instincts roar with pride, possession, and something deeper, something that feels like home finally falling into place.

"Say that again," his breath is a whisper, but it carries the rawness and strain of a male on the edge of losing control.