Any hope Abraxas had that he could convince Mercy with words died in those moments. He watched her, not managing a single word in response, his eyes glassy with alarm and his ears twisted back into the silver of his mane. He was almost trembling as he fought to control the dark, raging monster that was clawing to life within him, his breaths coming quick and shallow.

All he could think of was how they would all laugh at him from the shadows. Idiot, his brothers would think. Can't win a battle; can't keep a woman. He wanted to shake Mercy, to scream at her to stop complaining and just go along with something for once in her life. He didn't understand why she made everything so damned difficult.

I should have left her in the Common, he thought unkindly.

And then she turned to leave, and all thoughts left his brain entirely.

He reacted immediately, his body driven by some furious demon. Tail flagging, his hindquarters bunched beneath him and rocketed him forward, into her path, where he pivoted in place and shoved foward with his chest, intending to knock Mercy back a foot or two. His neck was arched, his chin tucked to his chest, his eyes wild with anger.

"Stop," he spat through gritted teeth, the word like the lash of a whip. "Mercy, just stop."

He was breathing heavily and looking at Mercy like he did not know who she was. He snorted, then lifted his chin a little, though he kept it pulled close to his neck, so that the muscles bulged like thick cord beneath his champagne coat. His ears splayed outward like horns. A little of the fire in his eyes withered, replaced by a keen sadness.

"I can't… allow you to leave, Mercy," he said, his voice like gravel. "If I did, the brothers would just bring you back. You don't want that. This is your home now, whether you like it or not."

I'm sorry, he almost added, but pride shuttered his lips closed.