He hated to see what she'd had to go through, he hated seeing that she'd reverted to a part of herself that she didn't like. He hated the idea that he had not been there to hold her as they slept. To cradle her tiny form in his. To protect her even though she didn't need it.
The tug on his hair made him stop immediately. With her, he would never take more than he was allowed. He would never harm her, or threaten her life in any way. She was his. He was hers. They were bound.
As soon as he was away from her, he bit into his own wrist and offered it to her. This would not only heal her physical wounds that he'd just made, but refresh her, and strengthen their bond further. They had not shared this in some time, apparently. He wanted them to be as solid as they had been before he'd been taken.