That evening, Roxy tried her best to evade Torian.
He was stalking her. There was no other word for it. The White Tiger moved through the Iron-Wood Manor with a heavy, deliberate grace, his dark eyes tracking Roxy's every movement with a burning, single-minded intensity.
It reminder her of how they first met.
He knew she was leaving for the ocean tomorrow. He knew the risks. And his beast was screaming at him to plant his seed, to claim her completely, to secure his legacy before she disappeared into the crushing depths of the Spires.
Though he was too foolish to realize the danger in that.
But Roxy knew exactly what his affections entailed. And taking a pregnancy into a high-pressure abyssal zone was a death sentence. She could not afford to let him catch her.
"Roxy," Torian's deep, rumbling voice echoed from the doorway of the kitchen as she tried to sneak a cup of water.
