Hideaway Strath yours are the sweetest eyes i've ever seen

Lotte wasn’t made of stone, and it wasn’t easy for her to uphold a façade of calm when she was so close to Hemlock’s throat that she could practically feel the healer’s pulse on her tongue. If she wished it, she could still that pulse. It would be easy — as easy as nipping at Coelacanth’s heels had been. When push came to shove, the soot-stockinged rogue was not a kindhearted creature. She was ruthlessly protective of the things and people she laid claim upon; and although she was willing to give her life for the Family, Dagfinn alone had been able to temper her fury when it reared its ugly head. It was rearing now, and it grew in strength when Hemlock mentioned the children that would inevitably come of her coupling with Lotte’s Ceannasach. “You have time, liekkikukka,” she soothed, a devilish flick of her tail the only sign of her agitation. “We all have time to decide the best way.”

I mean, assuming Lotte doesn’t murder Arturo first —

“I have questions, too,” was perhaps the first honest thing out of Lotte’s mouth, “but I think it will take time before they are answered.” Several of the “questions” were for Arturo, and her manner of asking them wasn’t something she really wanted Hemlock to see. The thought at the forefront of her mind was concerned with desire, though, and maybe the current of rage rolling through her bloodstream had more of an effect than she’d have liked to admit — because there was just a little thread of steel in her voice, just a little quiver in her breath, when she asked, “Is it for the children that you entertain this idea? Or for Ceannasach?” She was just about to see her husband and the alluring dryad off alone with Sirius, after all, and she didn’t particularly fancy the idea. Perhaps, unbeknownst to them, she would steal away after them under pretense of keeping an eye on Olive and Dakarai.