Any other ideas?

His attack was so swift, so unexpected that she couldn’t even brace for it. She couldn’t wholly say it was unexpected. Abuse was always anticipated, pain a friend around the corner. His claws scraped against her muzzle and she hit the ground hard. She didn’t bother to wipe the blood she could feel dripping from the fresh claw marks across her skin. She lay in the soft dirt, and looked up at him. Up at his neck, his shoulders, anywhere but his eyes.

There it was, she knew it had been in there all along. Lurking, just below the surface. Violence, bloodlust. The blood rolled down her face, towards her eyes as she lay there another moment, and then slowly rolled onto her back. Displaying her stomach, her throat. The most vulnerable parts of her body. Submissive, as she had been taught to be from birth. She had finally, finally, proven to her, and to Oleander himself that violence would always be the answer. “Are you going to take your slave next, My Lord?” because all his words had been lies.

"Speech"