"Why did they name you Raven?"

Her fingers stopped tracing lazy patterns on his chest. He really shouldn't have noticed, for her touch was featherlight and gentle, but with his enhanced senses, he did.

"The monks called me that. They didn't name me. I guess it kind of stuck, after being called that for seventeen years." She resumed tracing the outlines of his muscular chest halfheartedly, and continued, "they called me 'the raven'. To them, ravens were a creature of prophecy. The monks never quite told me if said creature of prophecy was good or bad, but I suspect that they believed it was bad."

A growl fought its way up his throat and she looked up at him, concerned.

"You aren't bad," he insisted.

Raven closed her eyes, knowing better than to argue with the topic of whether or not she was good or bad-aligned with her husband. It was one of the many traits that Garfield had. Yes, he was witty, charismatic, and a capable leader, but he was also stubborn. Once he was set on a goal or objective, he wouldn't stray from it.

"You…" he paused, thinking. "You're like a raven. Dark and misunderstood. People think of you as a sign of evil or death, but those who really stop to get to know you, they can understand you. Once you can look past the outer shell of the bird, you can see it for what it really is — elegant and beautiful."

Garfield gingerly took Raven's left hand in his own, his thumb rubbing against the diamond she wore on her ring finger. "And you know ravens mate for life."

She smiled, even though his eyes weren't on hers, and gently ran her fingers over the tip of his pointed ear before placing it on the base of his neck. His lips met hers and she felt his bare chest press against hers. She could feel his emotions running wild and his heart beating double-time when she dipped her tongue into his mouth.

The only reason the kiss was broken was the need for air, but Garfield opted to bury his face in her hair, breathing in the smell of her, while she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I love you," he whispered into her neck, his breath tickling her skin. "I just want you to know that, Raven."

"I know," she replied, lifting her hand to cradle his face in her hands. "I love you too, Garfield."

He kissed the side of her neck, and slowly worked his way down her jawline, planting sweet kisses into the crook of her neck before he reached her lips once more. He could taste the salt and mint on her lips every time he kissed her, and he felt one of her hands against his chest in the way Raven knew that he liked.

"Wolves and ravens depend on each other in the wild for survival," Raven added softly, her lips brushing his. "The ravens find the food and when the wolves eat their prey, they share some with the ravens. Their relationship keeps them alive, in a way."

He was quiet for a few seconds, considering her words, before he propped himself up on his arm. His glittering emerald eyes met her amethyst irises in the darkness of their bedroom, in a way that reminded her of a cat's eyes glowing in the dark. When he spoke, his voice was low and husky.

"Then I'll be your wolf."