Will he ever tire of magic?
How divine to watch her shift from feline to horse.
Still, the mouth drips with blood. Still, he can see that she is a hunter. But he feels no glimmer of fear, no stirring of nerves as she speaks. There at the center of him, something even darker stirs. There is a low hum in the network of those gilded veins when she purrs like a challenge. It is a fish hook in his belly, claws sunk into the meat of him, and he takes a step toward her.
She smiles, feral, and he follows suit. It is a dragon’s smile, all teeth. It belies the monster beneath the angelic appearance. How he wants to touch her. To taste the blood that still drips from her chin. It is a hot and wild thing that surges through him as he drags in a steadying breath. Finally, the nerves bristle. But not with trepidation. With something else entirely. Something electric.
“Show me,” he coos and takes another step toward her. “Teach me a lesson, won’t you?”
Part of him hopes that she might sink those teeth into the place where his pulse is the strongest. Part of him hopes that he might venture too close and she might show him the hunter she really is.
