Wheeling Gull Isle gyűjtemény

Ferahgo often held his face in a sort of rascally manner, as if the gears were always turning and he was always scheming (and he was); but as she spoke, and as the scent on her coat and the arch of her brow confirmed the tale, his expression slackened into nothing. He shuddered. Her and another female? Sure. But her and that tanky man-beast of a woman? Nope.

Thankfully, she eased the bad imagery from his mind. Her tongue found his chin and he raised his snout, turning it, as if to compel her to direct her attention to more than just his chin. His rugged jawline, for example. "Hmm. Did she not do a good job?" He ventured, steeling himself against more uninvited images.