boldened by her words, lasher took a single step forward and extended his muzzle, pressing lips against the edge of her jaw and tracing slowly down toward her throat, toward the mortal throb of blood that pulsed there. ah, he murmured, lingering a moment longer there before he drew away to find her eyes with his own. you devil. he spoke not as a threat, but in a whisper that intended mirth. it was not beyond him to keep with the ruse and believe that she remained an angel, for she certainly held the visage of one.
so, spirit, what ordeal have you for me to endure? he asked, settling himself on dark haunches before her. i shall not fight you. murky eyes danced with the brazenness of the joke, though some small part of him still thrummed with the possibility that she was but a spectre veiled in mortality.