Chill of the dark

She had crept slowly further and further past his walls each week he knew her. Further than a slave should have gone. But this wall, this was not hers to break. He drew in another slow breath. He hadn't realised how much he enjoyed her scent. But he needed to gain control of himself. His claws still gripped her, despite her offer to leave. 

“Do you feel safe in this den, Little Slave?” He asked her, voice whisper soft against her fur. “Perhaps you shouldn't, perhaps you shouldn't.” He said just as softly. His claws clenched, tightening around her and then loosening. He pulled back, a little further into the dark of the den. “Leave, if you want to.” He didn't want her to go, didn't want to let her. But perhaps it was unwise to let her stay.