She looked down at him, his mouth on her skin, hands on her waist, and tried to imagine not having him near. "You won't, you won't," she promised breathlessly, lifting her hips a little off the bed, pressing towards him. "Ride or die, you're mine, please-"
He made her feel alive, and strong, and sexy- in control of her sexuality in way she possibly never had been before. The choices she'd made with men, rich men who had material things to offer; transactional, selfish sex that she'd never really owned, had always been about what someone else wanted. Tragos had nothing to give her but himself, and she wanted all of him, felt greedy in her lust for him. Having to share him with Melpomene was a sacrifice she had to make, and only because she had to.