Varg wrapped his massive frame around me, holding me against his chest as if I were the world's most delicate jewel, rather than the woman who had just siphoned the soul from his body.
Perched on the edge of the bed, he took a spoonful of steaming stew from the bowl in front of him. He gently cupped my jaw with his calloused yet trembling fingers; lifting my head slightly, he brought the broth to my lips with the solemnity of a ritual.
"Feed yourself, my Luna," he whispered. His voice was no longer a roar, but a deep resonance, like the rustling of a forest. "Before your power consumes you, you must keep your body tethered to this world."
