Salted [m]

From a distance in the enveloping darkness, he could see the snowy, black-footed ghost come nearer. Ghost seemed an appropriate word for Jinx, as many days had gone by and the grieving almost-mother had not shared anyone's company. Therefore, when the hollowed female made a smooth, invariable line towards him, Haunter expected her to do some much-needed shedding of her present angst and tucked his ear in preparation to receive her ire, much like the first time they had met on these boundaries.

Able to take as much punishment as he could deliver, he was ready to accept Jinx's wrath that had so-far been hidden, threatening to boil over at any minute with each passing day. But it did not come. He saw none of her teeth at each graceful limp closer, and when she finally reached the rigid black wolf, she dragged her body along his. Shocked and tense, for a moment he considered this a part of her grief—or maybe she was disarming him in some way (as the once-loner always held onto his cynical mistrust of others)—but came to realize that this was something else entirely when she rounded him.

Her growl drew a lengthy ripple along his spine, taut with uncertainty, and without entirely meaning to, he returned the sound to her; it was low and covetous, a sound he had only made once before, elicited by another white she-wolf of his past. Haunter had always held a peculiar affinity for bleached demons, especially considering the pain and disgrace he had met at their will. Jinx was no different, having known his attraction for her from the moment he had met her—which was rather different from his growing attachment to Fox.

The thought of the young fireball made him hesitate, but he could not ignore the lingering heat in his chest as Jinx blindly touched him, her lusty golden eyes meeting his lecherous yellows, but she seemed to be looking through him rather than at him. The virile wolf growled again, more forceful this time, and he pressed his muzzle into the side of her neck and pushed her away, teeth clipping at the fringe of her ruff as the forehalf of her body was dispatched from his.

But if this had seemed like rejection, then Jinx was wrong, because Haunter was not a wolf known for his gentleness as he had never known love, knowing even less about how to genuinely court. And in pushing her away, he followed just as quickly, teeth digging further into the fur at her neck, passionately seeking her warm flesh and touching her in a way that suggested he could not feel near enough to her.