Wapun Meadow You sleep rather soundly for a murderer.

Her teeth found his flesh and the pair came to a halt, and she tugged at his neck gently before releasing to look at him with a mildly smug expression. I win, her gold eyes seem to say, but her gaze softened as the swarthy stranger looks upon her once more. He reached for her then, his raven muzzle caressing her own of alabaster, and Durnehviir sank her frame against his. Her tongue lapped gingerly at the corner of his lips and she crooned, losing herself in the moment. 

Preening at her fur as he did before, Durnehviir's handsome companion supported her weight as he set about tracing gentle lovebites along the base of her crimson ear, and worked his way along the side of her neck.

He murmured something to her then, the first time she listened to the deep rumble of a voice she was eager to hear, and a velvet lobe pricked forward as though eager for more. Durnehviir couldn't understand the language he spoke, but she did not need to request that he repeat as he spoke once more, this time in her mother tongue. "A dragoness," she said gently, a hint of teasing in her own tone. Viinturuth had always called her such, which was apt considering she'd been named for a beast of her grandmother's lore. "Durnehviir," she whispered with a dreamy smile, enjoying the attention this brute lavished on her nape. "I am Durnehviir."