Blackfoot Forest cried his wife impatiently.

The man finds his teeth buried in something-- but it is not fleshy and does not hold as much blood as a soft throat might. Instead his teeth have clasped around the bony muzzle of the stranger, and he feels shivers run down his spine as his teeth grind against the bone. It is uncomfortable, but he holds fast, knowing fine and well that this man wants the food he has gathered for Amara. But it is  a short lived spark of hope for Aaron as he soon finds that the stranger has broken free. 

The king falls into slow motion, his blue eyes crossing as he looks to see the bloodied jaws of the charcoal stranger moving for his throat. He twists-- the only defensive move he can gather to do in such sort notice-- and feels teeth clasp around his lower jaw, his throat just barely escaping the clutches of death. He is thrown to the dirt as he attempts to escape the clutches of the ghost, landing hard and with sickening thuds as his large body hits the ground. He falls limp,  letting out a low whine. It is all he can think to do-- he has no more options. Aaron avoids the golden gaze of the male, and his tail curls into his stomach with embarressment. Please, his whines beg, take it and go.