What does Home mean?

Married bliss?

He stands in the room, just holding me for a while.

I feel loved, cared for. Like how dad would hold me as a child.

"I get it, mom. Now I know what you love about dad. It's not the sex, alone.

It's this feeling of security and peace that I'm feeling right now." I thought.

"I'm so happy that you love me." We said together.

I pull back and see the surprise on his face.

We smile and hug each other before he sets me down.

I shake my fur out and go to start breakfast.

He sits down at the table and watches me cook.

I like that he wants to be with me.

I don't know what I would do without him.

Probably go back to how things were before?

That's boring.

I never knew how much I hated being alone until Brent came to me.

Anyway, I finish cooking and serve his food.

That smile on his face when I do that...

I can't get enough of that smile!

Sitting down with my food, we eat and talk for a bit.

He wants to check on his other property to see if it's intact.

I'm curious, too.

I am a bit concerned, though.

He keeps scratching at his tattoo.

It was done with magic, so, there wasn't actually any broken skin...

I ask him to take his shirt off and I see his back.

I cover my mouth with my hands and back away slowly.

"I'm so sorry." I cry.

"What is it?"

"The gashes. I clawed your back so deeply!"

I'm so distraught that I want to crawl under my bed and cry.

He stands up and picks me up into his arms.

"You really think I care about that?

They'll heal and, if they scar, what of it?

I'm proud to have them." He says, kissing my nose.

"We do need to clean them, though.

Mind helping?"

"I did it! Even if I did mind, I'm obligated to take care of it." I say.

He laughs and says

"Bullshit.

You're my wife, not my slave.

If you want to help, great. If not, just say so.

I'm a big boy and can handle a few scratches.

Really, Josie.

What do you want?"

I calm down.

"I want to help."

"Alright."

He carries me to the bathroom and sits on the side of the tub.

I grab the vodka from under the sink and dab his back with a rag.

He doesn't even flinch or anything.

"Don't you feel that?" I ask.

"Well, yeah. It feels nice." He says.