Shy Deer Steppes sotuknang

Ithrik was lulling himself into a stupor. His lanky body swayed in place. His eyelids fluttered over the sharp orange of his eyes. Both orbs were glossed over and had fallen into the thousand-yard stare. The devil was relishing in his sins. He stood, reliving the touch and feel of them in his mind. The hound shuddered as he recalled the fiery girl and her pleas. She had been so precious. She had been so full of fear. The patchwork brute's heart thrummed violently at the recollection. If only he had more of her memory to cling to. The restlessness stirred him and his eyes fluttered back open once more.

Splayed ears caught the sound of crunching snow. In a snapping twist, Ithrik craned his neck and latched his fervid gaze on her pale-coated body. She looked smart, curling around him like the curve of the moon. The devil watched her for a long minute. His eyes did not blink; they only followed her pattern in any direction she chose. It appeared that she was making an effort to close the distance between them – if only slightly.

You're hungry, the sharpest voice rattled through his mind. This one, he called Apostle. This one was the most savage of all of them. “You're right,” Ithrik hissed softly. His stomach clenched in agreement with the conversation. His gaze still remained fastened to the female. Her body appeared so delicate and careful. He wondered if her tender bits tasted differently than the others. Fear had such a diverse sapor. The taste was never the same. He wondered how this pale one would taste when he sunk his teeth into her. He wondered how she would feel to sink himself into and fuck. His flesh pricked at the thought. The hound did not stir, though.