One man's trash

He raised his other paw, and gently wiped away her tears. Feeling the dampness in the pad of his paw as he cleared one eye, and then the other. All while his left forepaw remained, gently parting the fur above her eye in a gentle caress. Despite forcing her head up, she still refused to hold his gaze. When had she become defiant?

“You are my Wife. I am your Warlord, and you are my Consort. I am protecting you, the way I know best.” He told her, voice stern. In so many things lately they had been… mostly in agreement. Their clashes had been to a minimum. But here and now, her defiance sat against him like a thorn in his paw. He gently slid his forepaw down, tracing her cheek, her chin, and landing on her shoulder. He tightened his grip there, holding her. “This is the best of me.”

"Basilisk Fatalis"