Ravensblood Forest the one minute. the soldier's minute

“A possessive man,” Lotte observed with frank approval, her voice pitched to carry and husky with a velveteen purr, growing all the more enamored with the gangster. Leadership and fatherhood seemed to suit him exceptionally — the fit of his new rank about his shoulders was easy and relaxed, and he wore it with a sleek suavity that she’d glimpsed only briefly the first night she’d met him. His was not the regal stoicism of the Neverwinter treelord — he was not a king but a gang leader, a father to blot out the names of other, lesser fathers, swaggering before her and adjusting his cufflinks with a casual smirk. She found it rather irresistible, if she was being completely honest, and all manner of stories and songs tangled her tongue in an unusual way. His smile, too, was devastating — the twitch of his lips was a gift that she hoarded rather selfishly, and she preened beneath his scrutiny, craning her neck to smooth her muzzle across the ashen cowl that ringed her throat. “Stay,” she repeated, splaying her forequarters in a playful bow that had her chin poking over the outcropping as her rear wriggled appealingly. “Here?”

She paused for emphasis, her small, triangular ears cupping forward. “Or do you wish me nearer, ovela päällikkö?” She ought to have called him kovanaama for his roguish ways, but she could not readily see him as a villain after the gentle way he treated Chusi.