The warm, golden light of the late afternoon poured through the arched windows of the master bedroom, casting a peaceful, amber glow over the massive fur-covered bed.
For the third time in what felt like as many hours, Roxy was comfortably propped up against a mountain of plush, silk-lined pillows. Her robe was pulled casually aside, completely exposing her breast to the tiny, fiercely demanding creature currently secured in her arms.
Tyara was eating again.
The three-day-old White Tiger cub possessed a metabolism that was frankly terrifying. She didn't nurse with the gentle, sleepy cadence of a standard human infant; she drank with the ravenous, single-minded focus of an apex predator.
Her tiny hands were balled into incredibly tight, surprisingly strong fists, gripping the delicate silk of Roxy's robe as if she were anchoring herself to the earth.
"She has an absolutely feral appetite, Queen Roxy," Dena observed softly.
