home is where the sleep is

Pet. The word send a zing of anger bristling through him. Of course he would do that for Vesper. If she had to be attached to his side to avoid pain and misery, he’d make that sacrifice. Would it not be a much easier solution than her fighting for her freedom?

Wilder avoided looking at Vesper as well. If he couldn’t see the look in her eyes, he couldn’t feel so much, wouldn’t feel so attached. “Ya wouldn’t be my pet, it’d jus’ be a ruse,” he rumbles stubbornly, letting out a sharp snort as he places his chin upon his paws, eyes staring directly at the wall.

“What if Oleander an’ the Warlord ain’t lying? Hm? What if ya can have yer freedom an’ have yer friends? Ain’t that worth trying?” There’s pain in his tone, in his words, quiet as he speaks, he knows she hears him. Was she so stubborn and selfish that she wouldn’t even try?