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The silence from her was nice. He did not feel as though he had to fight to understand each word. Instead, she spoke with her figure and he could comprehend on levels that the spoken word would never convey. Still, he was not entirely comfortable around her. When she rose – albeit slowly – the hairs along his neck and shoulders did rise and bristle. Tadec seemed to come alive with a fiery saddle. Both of his eyes bore into her own, questioning and wondering. It was only when she bowed into a playful stance that he eased himself. The wolf had closed some distance between them and he drew in the scent of her pack; he wondered what they would have for him to pilfer.

Swinging his tail, the thief did not change his expression of sharp interest, but he did loosen his tense posture. Broomstick legs danced backwards a few steps as the spindly male basked in the attention. It was only then that he caught the scent of her heat and felt his heart drum within his chest. Tadec did not wish to claim her; she was wolf and he was disgusted by her very flesh. His mind did wander to the prospect of a protective mate.