Tangled Moon (book two):
…“I’m hungry,” she said, pouting just a little, lower lip perfectly shaped for just such an expression. He was sure she had no idea she pouted. He wasn’t going to tell her, because then she might stop, and he liked the habit in her more than was probably reasonable.
“I know,” he said, feeling the strain of switching from his native tongue to English.
“Hopefully, they’ll let us hunt before the trial.”
“We will hunt,” he said.
He flipped a lock of hair off her face. Her pheromones spoke to him—you’re mine—come to me—her scent heavy. She tortured him daily without trying, but it was an exquisite pain, and he accepted it, pain and pleasure both…
Darcy Branwyn 
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