Tuktu Weir I created the sound of madness

Pixie let her head fall back of its own will, as if she had any choice. 

The sharp bite of his teeth doesn't seem to phase the witch, if anything her breathing turns harsher with the masochistic pleasure found in Nikan's touch. 

The promise of power, not as vast as Nikan's to be sure, is nearly alluring as the darkling himself. She would be one of his pets, like Zula, though of another nature. It was better than she could have hoped for. 

Were she a lesser woman, she might have squealed or moaned at the way he pinched her ear but Pixie had steel in her spine, she was the descendent of wolves who knew the truth of the gods and the world.

Her fiery muzzle brushed languidly through his chocolate coat, up his neck, to his ear. "There's only one thing I desire in life, darkling. To please the gods, to please you," she whispers with feverish adoration. 

They've become one and the same in her twisted mind.