Phoenix Maplewood bad moon rising

He looked at her, bright yellow gaze turning her blood to sudden ice (or was it fire?). She shivered as he spoke, and one paw moved, then another, without her volition, responding to his command. Her brain took control once more, however, after a moment, and she shook her head an infinitesimal degree, running her tongue along her jowls, a sudden pink against ebony.

"Lily," she murmured, just loudly enough to be heard over the hum of summer insects. Her stomach clenched, like it had with Dirge, with Vilkas, and she glanced down, suddenly abashed. "My name is Lily. Not. . .not 'woman.'"

But was she not a woman? It was her birthright. She took this opportunity to look over his face, focusing on the imperfections there. The shredded ear, the snaggle-tooth. It was not like Vilkas's visage, so broadly handsome, despite the scars. No, this man looked like a twisted creature of the night, something dragged from the depths of the earth.

He scared her. Why wasn't she running away?