Witch's Marsh Oh [m]y God, she looks so helpless, and her body's saying: "Hell yes."

Damien won't know.

The words rang through his head, echoing and then fading away. Her brother would not learn of her time spent with Xan, and so he’d not be put under the threat of imminent death. It’d loosened the grip that he’d thought himself to have on his control, allowing for the yearling to think that maybe he’d get away with it. He’d opened his mouth to say something else, but was quick to shut it, the words lost to the deepest depths of his mind. Her movement, however simple it’d been, was enough to tear from him entirely any lingering hesitance. Downward had his head then gone, nose finding its way to the source of her scent. Outward flickered his tongue, tasting the air around her before he’d pulled back.

Needing be prompted no more, Alexander drew himself closer to her, then swung a single forelimb up over her back. Though he could no longer keep himself from feeling the effects of her curse, instincts still insisted that he test the waters before continuing any farther. It was necessary for him to make sure that he’d not be attacked, and that this was, without a doubt, what she truly wanted from him.