Heron Lake Plateau Troy, this is Midsomer

She watched him, studied his motions, noticing how lithely he moved and how the sinuous muscles beneath his black fur rippled liquidly in the wan light of the crescent moon. The subtle glow danced over his silhouetted form like a silver-white aurora, and with each turn of his head, those electric eyes caught shards of moonlight and gleamed like gems. Damn, she thought appreciatively, staring at him with an appropriately come-hither glint in her gaze, that is one fine-ass piece of man meat there. He had a wonderful laugh, one she yearned to hear more often, and the infectious joy of it quickly had her suppressing a cackle herself. How had she not caught on to how attractive he was before now...?

As he strode toward her, he inquired about continuing their stroll. But before Raven could get a word out, he rushed toward her and left a gloriously muddy swipe right across the front of her shoulder. She grinned as he swooped in, making no effort to move, and when the deed was done, she was standing there almost nose-to-nose with him, tail wagging and golden eyes piercing his with mischievous intensity, as if daring him to make a move. She said nothing, waiting with bated breath as her nerves jangled and her heart raced.