Hideaway Strath maybe my hearing ain’t 20/20 no more

Lotte ought to experience a moment of weakness when her husband enters the clearing, but the punch of heady desire she inevitably feels upon seeing the svelte, black-masked coywolf only aggravates her already glowering temper. Like a siren, she has lured him to this place; and like a siren, she will drown him in a sea of his own making.

Hämähäkki paints upon her dark visage a bright smile, teased at the edges with a sultry darkness, and approaches him as she always does. Her head and the crest of her neck melt against his throat, and she winds herself in a silky little ring around him. When she comes up parallel on his other side, her head rests almost idly upon his withers, and her tongue begins a wicked dance along the nape of his neck. “I have missed you, rakas,” she says honestly, warmly. Then, in the most innocuous, saccharine tone she can muster, she mentions with practiced nonchalance, “I have spoken with Hemlock; she told me of your offer.”