Nika had never known him like this before.

Usually quiet, caring, humble—today he looked like a lost, terrified animal. His small, black ears quivered with his rapid breathing, and his bushy tail stuck out, as if preparing to defend something… something that was the most important thing in the world to him.

Her.

When he stood in the kitchen doorway, he didn't move an inch.

He didn't touch her, didn't threaten her—he simply blocked her path, trembling as if he himself were afraid of what he was doing.

"Please… don't leave," he whispered so quietly she barely heard it.

There was something new in his voice: a panicked, nervous tenderness. Nika froze. Her heart trembled, but not with fear—with shock.

"Step aside," she said coldly, as she had been doing for weeks.

The boy, however, only lowered his head, tears gathering on his cheeks.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to be a burden. I... I just... I thought someone had taken you. That you loved someone else..."

He spoke the word "other" so painfully, as if the very passage of it through his throat were cutting him from the inside.

He'd been even more sensitive these past few days—everything moved him, he'd quickly panic, fall asleep suddenly, wake up at her door. He'd say groggily that he had to watch over her, that he'd lose her.

Today, he looked as if every sound overwhelmed him.

"What's wrong with you?" she blurted out, more out of concern than anger.

The skunk looked up at her. His eyes were watery, feverish, as if he had a fever.

"Breeding season," he whispered shamefully. "It's like... like a disease. Emotions hurt. Everything's too loud." Too strong. I… can't cope without you.

He trembled, more than before.

He didn't try to touch her—he stood tense, as if fighting with himself.

"Let me… show you I'm not a threat," he muttered, backing away step by step, leading her toward the room.

Nika, surprised by this softness, this almost childlike helplessness, followed him.

She entered his room and froze.

Pink lamps cast a soft, warm light over everything.

On the bed sat dinner—her favorite.

Under the bed lay carefully wrapped gifts: books she'd been saving "for someday" but never bought. Notebooks. Paints. A scarf in her favorite color.

"Is this… for me?" she asked in a whisper.

The skunk nodded, wiping away tears with the back of her hand.

"I thought once you saw… you wouldn't leave." That you'll understand that I'll do anything to keep you safe. To… return to me. Not as… a female. It's not about that. Just as… my Nika.

His tail quivered, taut as a string. The room was filled with the intense scent of musk—not erotic, but animalistic, desperate, filled with stress. The scent of a creature afraid it's dying from fear of being alone.

He swallowed hard, but didn't hide.

"I want... to hold you," he said, his voice almost a hoarse groan. "I want to be close to you. In your arms. Smell your scent, touch you. I..."

He hesitated, as if the words were too intimate, too embarrassing to say.

"I want to sink my teeth into your skin and mark you."