This loss feels like a welcome home

The Warlord also pushed away his breakfast remains, looking across at Tamsyn. She was at equal heights, resting on the cot just before him. She was frank and honest with him, painfully so. He did her the courtesy of doing the same, though his voice had more growl to it. “I am the Warlord. I am, by nature, controlling, possessive and selfish. When I love something, I do so utterly, and would move mountains to keep them safe. I centered the majority of that nature into Zee, and for it I almost followed her to the grave. I am doing everything I can not to grab you by your tail and drag you back to My Armada. You anchored me when I was adrift, and for I need you.” He let out a slow, measured breath.

“But I know you would not come willingly, and in the doing it would break us both. This was perhaps not the safest turn in conversation, for either of us. If one more wolf breaks your heart, you best hope I never find out.” His gravelly voice was protective and threatening both. The bed beneath him groaned beneath the push of his paw as he fought to reign himself back in. Had his control always been so slim? Yes, before Zee had been fully hers. In that phase beforehand when they were still learning each other. But then she had come to the Armada, to his den, to the safety of his arms, and he had been okay. Adrift it was a good word to describe him.

The problem was, he needed something to anchor him. For his sanity, and the safety and well being of his family and pack. Tamsyn had lined herself up to be that very thing, but she could not give up what she had created here to save him, and nor could he ask it of her. It left them in a very strange position indeed. "Without an anchor, without her centering myself is nigh on impossible."

"Speech"