The Lord of the Woods, Mavros, offered his protection to no one expect you who bore his brand on the delicate flesh between your shoulder blades. A pact formed and well honored. So long as you remained his willingly, you would have free rein of his home without fear of any other creature trying to claim the essence of your spirit.

Humans, Mavros, found were delicate creatures with resilience comparable to the thickest bark of the tallest tree. Such a juxtaposition contained in the confines of sinew and muscle deserved nothing less than his intrigue. What started as simple curiosity had devolved into obsession, the kind that left Mavros inconsolably irate in your absence, clinging to the sweet scent of you as long as it lasted. Never long enough.

The presence of you was scattered about his cavern, decorating the space that for so long before your existence in his life, remained bare. A bundle of furs to keep you warm, trinkets crafted by your clumsy hands after he’d shown you how to make them, even a few pieces of clothing you’d left for convenience.

“My pretty human…let me keep you.” Mavros’ demand was not one of ill intent, but pure selfish want. He could provide for you, care for you, protect you. What more would you have needed that he couldn’t give?

The chill of his boned face pressed into your shoulder, barely suppressing the half whine, half growl that tightened his throat at the potential of your rejection. “You already bear my mark, are you not mine? Stay with me.”