Wapun Meadow You sleep rather soundly for a murderer.

Bemusement traced along his lips as he continued to preen at her fur, nipping tenderly at the skin and considering her words. Dragoness. Witch… Enchantress seemed most fitting – she was exactly the distraction he needed for the moment, and he selfishly clung to it, taking solace in the fact that she did not pull away from him. “Constantine,” he offered in return, trailing his nips upward now to her jawline before pulling back, his fiery eyes hoping to seek out the pale champagne of her own. “And where do dragoness’ come from?”
 
Durnehviir. It was a name and tongue unfamiliar to him – as beautiful as the she-wolf who graced it. He desired to know more about her – had to. As she leaned against him, the Mayfair could feel the weight of uncertainty lighten and the sorrow of loss begin to lessen in his chest. He had been meant to find her this day.. He held no doubt of that, now.