Firestone Hot Springs Cause you gotta guilty, filthy soul

She didn't move. Not a muscle out of place. The gears were figuratively visible as they turned while she came up with an answer to his question. But as the words came from her maw, his gaze did not soften. Dark brows furrowed while darkened lips tightened; the man shifted his position in the water while pushing himself up to a stand, remaining in the water while met met her gaze with a more appropriate level.

The water slicked down his fur, exposing his musculature that was normally hidden under the thick fur that graced his frame. A body fit for power and ambush, speed and delicacy clearly lacking in his physique - but for one like him, those were unnecessary. I'm tired of these games you all play. An audible growl rolled from his tongue while he spoke, despite his words being directed to her, the aggression was more or less directed to a third party.

You've come to me, with that he began to approach, without hesitation in his gate, he pushed through the water with ease, muscles rippling with every step until he stopped about a wolf-length away from the female. So I ask again. What the hell do you want, woman.