She was getting tired of hearing his name.

Lord Yhaull.

It was not a name that fell from her lips in three syllables. It was not a name that came from the wide slash of overtly swollen mouth?and it was not a name she liked currently.

The gall of the male, as pretty as his scales and teeth were, to claim her.

The gall of the male, to think he could touch her and pet her like creature owned.

No one owned Suliss?urn.

No one!

Not even?

?not even?

She threw a glass in the empty Inn, shattering it to a thousand pieces against the wall. In the silence, no one cared.

She hated silence.

She hated the fact that she had let a man claim her. But it was not Lord Yhaull who owned her.

Hated, and adored.