Ravensblood Forest Let our hearts be the only sound.

Durnehviir stood tall, observing the swarthy Regal's approach as he pressed through the forest toward her with a long, predatory stride that radiated confidence. A soft, knowing smile tugged the corners of her mouth upward as her champagne eyes gazed dreamily past her lashes to follow his every step. He prowled toward her with purpose, his fiery stare focused entirely on her and she basked in the moments where only they mattered.

She rumbled approvingly as Constantine swept in closer to her, veering so that he could begin to trail around her in a loose ring. The dragoness' feathered tail stirred, flicking almost cat-like at her ivory hocks. Durnehviir admired the dark brute's powerful frame: a ripple of strong muscle beneath the sable tresses of his pelt as he stalked her, the density of his proud mane, his handsome features. Constantine was magnificent.

And he was hers.

The russet Frostfur allowed her companion to eye her hungrily, arching her neck elegantly as he drew close enough to touch, but she did not reach out with tenderness. Instead, like a snake, she made to strike and deliver a sharp nip in the direction of his flank as he passed her. It was in no way a communication for him to get lost, but simply a teasing gesture; where was the fun in letting him have his cake and eat it?