He knew he was being followed- all the training he had committed to @Reiner, all of the hard hours and long days, nights, evenings he had devoted to the behemoth to where he near looked as the silent monster tended to. Dark, stalking, but arrogant- but the true question was what came first? The Sergeant or the Assassin?
And what happened if they were one in the same?
What if, by some terrible experiment, some awful concoction of repeated failures, eventual success blended and gave birth to the man who kept his auds forward currently, rather than instinctively following the mostly near imperceptible crinkles of newly weighed down debris behind him? 
What if Minori stalked a man so capable of ignoring his body's natural signals, a man who could leave her body rigid and decaying in a place where mate nor sister could find her? For every victim this man she stalked held no grave marker, and were untraced to this very day-

Yes...Minori brought fang to her Alpha. But as every killer knew, this was no aim to kill. So he allowed this slaver upon his unbristled hide, gave no protest to her as he calmly stopped his gait to turn once she had pulled free, and brought down a devil's twin scythe of ice upon the ivory eye patch wench.

His mind drifted to times where these occurances had come to be, where random assaults had been aimed at him from many who tested his skill, his resolve, his lethality. But he was young then, nowhere near the murderer he is now. He was but a child in that regard then, he mused as his unflinching gaze remained on her delicate face. Slade, Raziel, Reiner...he knew of them, and he eventually had come to best them all. 
It was he who stood here, king of these lands, not them. 

Arrogance threatened to fuel him, to bleed through him as fire would gasoline through veins of coal. But he was calm, collected, and his discipline overruled the fuckery that his testy mind tried him with. And thus the rushwater flooded through, hissing over the molten wrath of sin embedded thick in him. His chin tilted up, and began to rotate his skull clockwise as he unstiffened unused musles- He contorted thighs, hocks, forelimbs and rolled his spine to control and release the bloodflow that he knew he would need for this coming slaughter. He relished the oxygen that flowed through him, just as fresh as the sea of artic waters that was his lifeline. Oh, how he needed this, this desire, this inate urge to just ruin.
  Regaining his stature, he allowed his cape to unfurl, his mane heading the top of the lavish and thick wave of onyx with a strict meld of absolute ebony, a perfect rush of darkness that heralded his name. His acceptance was clear, almost surrender to her demand, but there was no kneeling present in this King of the Keep.  And with light betraying his final place where he stood for her last saving grace through the help of filtered moonlight from the canopy above, the obsidian killer lurged forward with speed that should not have belonged to him, to his age, to his crisp creases of fatherhood. And he belied to the newly mothered woman exactly why the shadows were his home. 

And the only thing she would possibly be capable of making out would be the bright albasters of his trapping jaws across her hide, precisely aimed for her scruff. There was no plans to drag this out- he did not wittle down foes. One shot, one kill. 
His mind played the scene miliseconds before it could have happened- he would yank her free of her security of her fours, and fling her directly into the ground. His mind was too focused on the attack that it hadn't pieced together the possible aftereffects once the slam had been commited- and thus he was unprepared for what would hit him next.

His misjudge of her, it felt so promising. His fault, his nearsightedness, it felt so absolute that he could have asked for her to rush him all over again. It was almost euphoric, and he'd be fucking lying if it wasn't something that made him fiend for more. The reward was her retaliation, and it dove him into another cataclysim of pressure that brought so much reality to him, it woke him up as the scene replayed over in his head. After he had slammed her once readying up, she had let him. And the sound tht had left her lips had not been a growl, nor a grunt, but a breathy groan, and it only grounded him that much more. Reality, how sweet it tasted once you figured it out. 
Minori had pulled his attention free from the gravity of the situation, and reinvested it all in herself. 

It was the throb of his neck snapping back that forced the reflex of flying back from the nearity of his foe, leaping back with such fluid jostle that he only barely missed the graze of fangs over his windpipe. The air however was not missed, and it passed over sensitive skin with goosebump-raising chills. The flail of dirt had him shaking himself from her prior distraction and he hadn't spent much more than a blink before Darkicryer he pulled a feint to her left underside while curling to the right to slash a beartrap of jaws across her tantilyzing curve of shoulder. all the while, his inhale caught the aroma of her sweat, her grit, and her passion. It riled up a disaster of feelings in him, all curling through his heart like a serpent who knew every crevice-

and knew it well.

Luck kept its distance as he relied on skill and training. He did not need luck, as it was for novices, and he was far from it. The extra skin on his hackles, the little bit that all wolves had, allowed him leeway to turn in her grip, and more importantly, to reverse it. Except where she would have his nape, he would have her throat. 

Pulling a swivel beneath her, ivories sprang for her windpipe, but no force came from his grip- instead he lurched forward and toppled her flatly on her back, his dark kiss still where her pulse lay. The urge to simply crush it ran strongly through his body, and for a second, he squeezed lightly on it just to feel the resistance, to feel her tremble beneath him, but instantly he released her. He would not kill her...

for she was perfect.

His world tilted as she crawled after the man who had chosen to turn and keep himself from remaining atop her, a struggle of something so wretchedly carnal in him that his entire void-pasturized soul shook with enough force to stop his breathing. Even inhaling her was devastating to his psyche, and almost as any minion would, she tasted it, and grew addicted. A single slit of ice peered over his cape of midnight as he took her in, took her in this pathetic state, this whimpering slime of begging bitch...

His ruff lowered, mane softening to lay smooth over the Phantom while he turned to take her full under his atlantic scrutiny. Waves of baritones coldly crashed against to Warrioress, his prized and most valuable General. His Platinum. His, His, His. 

He had nothing left to say to her. Yet he had a legion of words to unfurl upon her. Cry wanted to kill her. Yet he wanted her to be so much closer to him than anything he could ever have imagined. He was attracted to her, her restless relent, her unending subjection to his law- something in him craved it- needed her to know that he expected that of her. It snatched him by his mind, and pulled his body to hers, circling the woman with almost voracious structure. A parasite that she sated with her whines, pleads, moans, and body. 

"Are you, truly?" Lies could undo her mercy, and they could leave her buried in this Keep rather than leading it. Deceit was his life, his father, his guide, his soul. And it played out the beat of his heart. He would know if she lied to him...
And thus would be her doom.

He grew closer to her, snout sliding against the air beside her with clean efficiency, clean and telling. The breath passing from his words, from his breathing, it intermingled with hers on a sail of silk with satin. 
Was she his? 

Was she?

He scoffed at her words- not in mockery, but in incredule. Hearts?!...There was no heart in this, no honor in what they had just done. There was nothing here but vile exhibition, of deboned structure. As he brough his crystaline gaze back to her own gems, her face had already turned, lashing the heat and pull of delishes delight up his aud's ridge. There was something undoing about how destructive their species could be, yet it was savored even more when they chose not to become such houndish things. When the maws that could had ripped his ear raggedly from his skull instead trailed temptation upon it. 

No.
There was no heart here. 

There was only power. 

"Desire becomes surrender-" his voice nulled the world around them, silencing even the breeze that tried to interrupt his lesson to his favored amongst filth. "And surrender becomes..." he trailed off, giving himself the ease of finishing his circuit behind her, glacials scalding her back with winter's most forsaken of shards. He expected her to finish the quote, a quiz of her memory as he recalled the very time she had heard his mantra. Her pelt was fading in the scent of Issun, and almost as though a barricade was being erased by his own wish, he pushed himself closer to her, painting her perfume with his much more. Almost a blanket of protection against those who couldn't handle the monsters of misery that they had become.

Just as crisp as it was for her voice to reach his auds, her position, her allowance was a turntable that he was whirling on. She faded his dying mind with such simplicity as she confirmed that yes, she was in fact learning, listening, paying mind to him where she was needed. She made him fade, freely diving into his crevices with lusty trysts. The hush of everything was all he could grasp mentally as he physically broke the seam of distance between them, forelimbs warming in a devious blend of black on black. Her muscled hips were pulled closer as he wrapped one of his own underneath her, wanting her in his embrace with as little time wasted as possible. This was no simple task, yet they were simple creatures. They both felt the spindle line lift, a veil they needed not as their natured revealed to the other. Cry could only do so much to stop himself from tearing into her, from reeling a horrendous pair of jaws around the back of her neck as he hoisted her up, closer to him, fitting him in the wedge of space where she fit so wrongly, but in turn clicked in place. 

Gwen had the key of his mind and heart in the dainty chain around her neck-

Yet Minori asked for only leadership, where he asked for only loyalty. 

She dragged him in a pirhouette as he pulled her in a whirl. They were built for this abuse, and he would give it to her as much as she had yanked it from him. The dizzy dance of fallen hearts where only they knew the other by heart-
because there was none.

There was nothing more said as he pushed himself against her, all too expertised at the erection and insertion of himself into a woman with as many times as he had tangled with his wife. It was a blur what disasterology unfurled between these two obscene obsidians, but just as he had in their spar, he was swift, efficient, and very capable of making this despicable affair seeming to last lifetimes longer with every thrust he pushed heatedly on his General. 

He had held back with Gwen...
But nothing was bonded back with Minori. 

Today, roughmance was the theme.

It was a violent and heated affair, each dragging the other, sweat dampening the dirt beneath them in a slop caking of sex-musked mud. But Sithis above, if it didn’t feel good, he would be damned to lie. He only knew her. Only her. Her voice, her despicable moans and those goddamn groans. 
And it was all he knew as he took them to hell’s gates, hand in hand.

Time had cooled them to steaming piles of fur and tangled limbs as their pants whisked away in plumes beyond. Cry had nothing to say. Did she? A single degree of lift skewered a glacial to assess his General.
But before anything could cross his mind, something unbelievable came to be-

his silence was broken, as barks of laughter streamed from a gravelled throat.

His laughter subsided as her mints crashed against his icicle with a sharp and demanding clink. They hadn’t subsided because of the ‘hurt’ in her voice, only because he had finished his enjoyment of the situation. Now that she had caused. Yet it held back nothing from him. 

“You’ve gotta learn to smile more, Minori. Have you not heard of being a murderer with a killer smile?” As much as he had smiled here in the Keep, he’d expect someone to notice how nothing had laid behind it, how it was merely a mask to the apathy and icewaters that swirled about in his heart. 
Yet no one had.

“You are an outlet. And you are damn good at it.” He wasn’t shying away from what they had just done. He’d already assumed he was an outlet from her the moment she had challenged him to this twisted dance. And thanks to the other little quirks of his of hearing quite a bit happened between her and her supposed mate, the Phantom knew much more than he was expected to. “I have given you an outlet as well- an outlet that smothers your mistrusts and hides the infidelity of your ‘sweet  and mindful’ Issun.” He stood, shook his pelt of as much wallowing filth as he could before taking his steps in the opposed direction. ”You are just as free to choose what and who you want, just as much as I am.” A hidden threat lie within those silken words, his baritones letting them slip almost ribbonesque to his General. 

Two could play at this game-
and he was certain he was capable of beating her at it.

Now that brought a smile to his face. He’d allow to think her opinions for as long as she could stomach them. Women needed their little power surge wherever they could get it. It wasn’t as though she would be able to  take him down, so he had very little to fear from the bitch.
His bitch.
His breath held as he felt another pass of possessiveness come to seek claim in him, yet discipline silenced it. 
Did she truly believe she could have him? That she could contain the monster that he was? That she could relate to anything that slept within his dark mind? 

Unfortunate. 
But he would atleast give her all of the rope she needed to hang herself with.

”Minori,” he chided in a soft voice, brows lowering over subarctic eyes in a illusion of sympathy to her- sympathy to her ignorance. “I value you as so much more than a simple ... pawn,” he spat the word into the dirt as he watched her over his shoulder. He did. It was a fact. She was his most close as of yet in matters of warfare, and should it be known that they had come to fuck, he wouldn’t have shame in that. “And to be frank, your assumptions wound me- it shows me how little you think of me.” He returned to sit, his back still to the dark wench that he had grown a bit fond of. “Especially as I hadn’t assumed you would want to be such a lowly position, forever...”

He listened, something she seemingly did not take to very well. But even while she did not, she had. A breath passed after she had concluded herself, and he could feel her desire to hide this mess they had made. Such a flavor of distaste was unfound in him- by Sihis above, what if he had wanted to get caught?

“You’ve got a point, Minori. But if you deny order and category, of structure and discipline, what can you claim as a soldier of mine? Simply acting on an order that leaves my lips when you are unable to keep your own tongue?” His smile was not on his face, but it lie in his voice. She was a smart girl, a stone that was not meant to be shaped into a gem, but sharpened and polished into a blade of its own. “I don’t ask much of you. I much rather see what kind you have of your own accord. A mind much broader than any that a simple General could keep. And if I’m fact, you might be ready to step into something more worthy of sleeping with a wedded man.” After all, of you were going to have an affair, why not make it more meaningful? 

He didnt just sleep with anybody.

”I’ve no Confidant. I’ve no one to lay their eyes on your talent and deem you a worthy successor of these woods. But I have myself. I have my opinions. And most of all, I’ve seen your capability.”  

Bringing a deep breath into his chest, he pulled the drapes from the piece he had worked on for a nice minute now, and bringing himself to center with it, to accept this little motion he had, he gave novelty to what she though was ‘just a rank’. 

“I wish for you to become my Heir, Minori. To rule Shadewood in my stead, should it come to be.” Though it we’re something that could be taken away should he see something undesirable in her or if he should come across a better catch. Ears flashed back fluidly to catch her reactions, to gauge her breathing, her movements. He was invested in her.

”That means the only one who can contest you IS me.”