Ravensblood Forest Let our hearts be the only sound.

Durnehviir had isolated herself from the pack for days, and had seen very little of her pack-mates during that time. She'd picked up on fresh tracks or scent trails here and there, perhaps from the boys' curiosity getting the better of them or simply a matter of them passing through, but she avoided seeking their company. It was not Samothes or Screech that her body longed for, and so the russet Frostfur would slip away with fear of crossing their paths and into hiding to avoid any conflict.

Constantine had not come for her. She supposed this was for their best interest, considering their relationship was still clouded with uncertainty and neither of them had approached the topic of a new generation within the forest. Most importantly, she doubted that their numbers could support any offspring - it would be unfair to put pressure on their tiny pack to help rear any unplanned offspring. As Durnehviir entered her most fertile days, however, any sense she previously had was cast aside entirely and undercover of night, she ventured from her temporary hollow in the heart of the forest with every intention of seeking her most beloved companion.

She did not call for him, knowing that her scent alone would lure him from his own hiding, and nor did she wish to draw any unwanted attention toward her. The lithe beauty trailed the forest, testing various evergreens and tufts of frozen grass for any sign that her swarthy Alpha might also be on the prowl.

At one important junction of Constantine’s life, the shadowrunner had pressed the matter of control upon others. He had insisted such from his fellow pack mates in Donnelaith – particularly, Rowan and the pregnancy she had claimed was begotten from his father. Casmir had vocally announced his own thoughts on the matter – that during the time of a she-wolf’s heat, there was little control, and neither of the party should have been to blame. Constantine hadn’t believed him then – having been able to avoid such antics in the past, even during his more youthful and unrestrained days when he had run with Tartok.
 
Durnehviir, however, was irresistible to him at any given time, and so when he had noticed the change of her scent, he had remained a vigilant guard to her, but one that remained in the shadows of the sequoias. He was more guarded around Samothes and Screech now, ensuring either male kept a fair distance from the she-wolf he might as well as called his own, though neither had made it official. But he did not seek her company out – not when he had yet to raise a council for the pack, and their ranks remained thinner than he would like for the care of rambunctious puppies.
 
That, and he doubted his ability to be a father.
 
He hadn’t been far from her, skirting through the forest of their newly claimed home. But the wind teased him as her scent became stronger, and he realized she sought him then. With wolfish brows arched upward in what could very easily appear a ‘deer caught in headlights’ expression, the Mayfair wolf froze, his bright eyes catching a flash of crimson fur.

When at last she picked up on his fresh scent, the dragoness' pace quickened. She jogged through the bleeding trees, prowling the darkness with determination in her long stride. Her tail flagged and she paused from time to time to rumble inwardly in frustration, for her urgency caused her to lose track of her intended among the dense woodland. Durnehviir was painfully aware that Constantine lingered somewhere in the shadows - always, always just out of reach.

She huffed through her nostrils, a smoky plume that floated overhead to dissipate in the night air. Turning away, champagne eyes peered through the gentle snow flurry to finally fall upon a pair of gleaming orange eyes. Her oversized ginger ears pressed forward and her breath hitched, her heart hammering within her breast as she quietly stared at him from a distance. Briefly, she recalled their first encounter in the meadow and how they'd connected in the very same way, and she chose to remain silent.

Her eyes wandered hungrily over his proud physique, and the mere sight of him was enough to set her skin aflame. Durnehviir's expression softened as she sought to meet his gaze once more, and she beckoned him to her with a simple twitch of her dainty nose.

She was still for the moment – allowing the swarthy man to take in the sight that lay before him. Women had always fascinated him in the past – Blue Willow had ensured his upbringing made him respect them for what they were and could be – intelligent, fierce, wonderful and so many more things. He had witnessed beauty many times in his young years. Some of them had been nameless to him – passing by, or untouchable, within the ranks of Tartok where the act of courting was far more strict than he had encountered anywhere else. In Donnelaith, he had always appreciated the prettiness that had cloaked Lotte, though he had never gotten close to the she-wolf. And, of course, @Aria was the one who truly stood to mind.
 
He had somehow envisioned only a little over a year ago that perhaps it would be she and him that would start a family together. They had known each other intricately in some ways – a quiet support that had allowed them to work well together. He could have loved her if they had opened their relationship up further – he knew that without a doubt. But she distanced herself from him at times, and he had wanted to wait for when the opportunity presented itself. It never had, and the burning of Donnelaith had brought him to his knees.
 
Durnehviir, though. With the dragoness, it was not a slow and steady burn for more. He had wanted her the moment he had seen her – their initial meeting had implanted something spiritually in to him, and his only pause in his advances toward her had been out of respect for her and for the better of Ravensblood Forest as it came to fruition.
 
She was undeniable. Not just from the teasing scent that drifted to him, but the flash in her eyes – and that he could no longer deny his soul what he wanted. He would not suffer the past anymore. He had made mistakes plenty – but he refused to let himself mess up with the woman before him.
 
She was beautiful in her own right. The fire of her pelt that draped across gentle cinnamon and ivory. Her pale eyes did not meet him with denial, and it was then that the shadowrunner prowled forward like a beast stalking his prey. His jaws loosened, his ears thrusting forward in his intent to head her off. His movement was predatory, tapered only by the need that ignited in his own fiery eyes as he began to circle her.

Durnehviir stood tall, observing the swarthy Regal's approach as he pressed through the forest toward her with a long, predatory stride that radiated confidence. A soft, knowing smile tugged the corners of her mouth upward as her champagne eyes gazed dreamily past her lashes to follow his every step. He prowled toward her with purpose, his fiery stare focused entirely on her and she basked in the moments where only they mattered.

She rumbled approvingly as Constantine swept in closer to her, veering so that he could begin to trail around her in a loose ring. The dragoness' feathered tail stirred, flicking almost cat-like at her ivory hocks. Durnehviir admired the dark brute's powerful frame: a ripple of strong muscle beneath the sable tresses of his pelt as he stalked her, the density of his proud mane, his handsome features. Constantine was magnificent.

And he was hers.

The russet Frostfur allowed her companion to eye her hungrily, arching her neck elegantly as he drew close enough to touch, but she did not reach out with tenderness. Instead, like a snake, she made to strike and deliver a sharp nip in the direction of his flank as he passed her. It was in no way a communication for him to get lost, but simply a teasing gesture; where was the fun in letting him have his cake and eat it?

He circled her, his eyes drifting over her in appreciation as he considered the meaning of all this. He was not a stranger to a she-wolf in heat, but never before had he given in to the temptation – never before had the timing been appropriate, and certainly never before had they ever meant something to him.
 
Durnehviir meant a great deal to him, and he had surpassed the need to take their courtship slow. Both had made their intentions clear, and she had not yet fled from him when he had told her of his past mistakes. If anything, she seemed to want to grow their future together, and with this thought, the shadowrunner released a loose growl.. One of a possessive nature.
 
She nipped him then – a sharp movement that the Regal had not expected, and as her teeth bore past the thick fur of his haunch and to his skin, he snorted in surprise, his ears flattening for a moment as he paused in his movement. His eyes were intense as they studied her, and testing the waters now, uncertain if she was either encouraging him to work harder for his prize, or if she was warding him off, the Mayfair prowled closer, his jaws agape as he made to mouth at her own flank, waiting to see if she would set upon him repercussions for his actions.

Constantine had not expected her sharp warning, and Durnehviir side-stepped carefully away from him as he looked upon her with a puzzled expression. She growled then, a soft encouragement to look but don't touch, and her feathered tail twitched excitedly at her rear. He paused for a moment, uncertainty in his fiery stare, before he resumed his stride and dared to venture closer.

The dragoness canted a ginger ear backward, shuffling around to maintain eye contact and prevent the swarthy Alpha from hooking his limbs around her waist before permission was granted. Boldly he reached out for her, jaws parted, and Durnehviir twitched her lips as she contemplated her own reaction: to allow this gesture, or to snap at him once again.

Her longing to be close to him permitted his pampering, and she leaned into the touch for a short time before she slunk away. Durnehviir's smoldering eyes sought his again, beckoning the shadowrunner to follow her through the snowfall as she slipped between the bleeding evergreens and into the dark depths of their woods.

His teeth nipped in to fiery fur, grazing just at the tender flesh of her hip and mouthing toward the elegant curve of her hip bone. No sooner did his ministrations begin that she loped away, her tail flicking as she cast him another coy glance. He rumbled darkly, his tongue smoothing over his tainted lips as he considered her actions – never before had he been tempted by a she-wolf in season, and so he relied only on instinct.
 
And instinct is what lured him after her – she met his eyes brazenly, and he took it as a challenge – one that he did not deter. Instead, his own ears perked forward, his jaws loosening as the stocky Mayfair quickened his pace, veering to her side, waiting to see if she would run as if his prey or allow him closer. Until she made it very clear she did not wish for his company now, he would be after her – and even if the former, he would not be letting her stray far from his sight, lest another male attempt something upon the she-wolf he firmly intended to claim as his.

Wanna finish this up?  :)

His interest remained, and she smirked with accomplishment. She sashayed, her hips swaying teasingly and her feathered tail lashing encouragingly until Constantine once more found himself drawn to her side. She leaned in close to him when he was mere inches from her flank, allowing her the tips of her crimson fur to mingle affectionately with his own swarthy guard hairs. A low, seductive growl accompanied the gesture, and her teeth sought to affectionately nibble the dark tresses of her companion's neck.

Finally she swept forward, trailing the length of her frame along his own and moving in a way to present herself to him for the taking.

Fading here, unless you want one more reply?

His eyes followed the dragoness – burning embers that radiated their intent. His steps were confident, but slow, not willing to rush her. She finally accepted his presence, her eyes and voice lilting their teasing nature as she trailed along the length of his swarthy form, withdrawing a low rumble of approval from the Regal.
 
He nosed along her spine as she moved along him, his nose flaring as he neared her hips now, his ears cupped forward with his interest. His jaws nibbled along her hips, settling to the base of her tail where he would offer a much rougher nip – one of possession.
 
When she was certain, he would pull her to him, his forelimbs wrapping around her to grip her closer to him. The union only sealed his belief that she was his now, and their courting had taken a point of no return. Hours would pass, and he would work to ensure she would carry a mixture of their blood – the lineage of Mayfair and Frostfur, and a pinnacle to the growth of Ravensblood Forest.