Lynn's body stiffened.
The girl in his arms breathed steadily, seemingly deep asleep.
But those heavily nasal, dreamlike words brushed against Lynn's most sensitive nerves like the finest feather.
"Could you control my body again? I want it..."
The words were indistinct, part coaxing, part longing, yet filled with a dependence she did not recognize herself.
Lynn lowered his head and looked at the little wildcat curled in his arms.
The firelight traced the soft contours of her profile.
Her long red hair lay scattered across the pillow like a blaze.
In sleep, she had shed all her barbs.
Gone were her daytime swagger and domineering manner, leaving only an ordinary girl's softness and vulnerability.
She was jealous of Myrcella.
She felt possessive.
The realization left Lynn unsure whether to laugh or sigh, yet an inexplicable tenderness stirred in his heart.
Ygritte was like a wolf accustomed to hunting alone on the wilderness, suddenly brought into a human village.
She did not understand its rules and could not stand its insincere pleasantries. The only person she could recognize and rely on was the first one who had fed her meat.
And Lynn was that person.
That was why she clumsily imitated the manners of the South, trying to fit into a world she did not understand at all.
And why a thoughtless gesture from Lynn could make all her hackles rise, driving her to stake her claim in the most primal, direct way.
She did not understand political marriage alliances or what it meant to be allies.
In her black-and-white world, sleeping together meant a lifetime together, and nothing could be happier.
Those words spoken in her sleep laid bare the most secret longing in her heart.
She missed that feeling.
The feeling of Lynn taking complete control of her