Silver Creek yea, though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death

he approaches, his movements also feline, that empty golden stare piercing her flesh like a lance. oh. . .there is something about him, yes. she cannot place it. but the abstract subsides when she catches a familiar odor layering his pelt; this man is now rooted in reality. there is a reason for his presence--he is not just a demon, from the pits of hell, here to torture her.

or else he is, and grayson has been consorting with evil.

i smell my brother on you, addison murmurs softly, still looking down. a shudder runs over her fine, silken pelt as he touches her neck, her tail instinctually moving slightly to one side. with other women, she is fierce, a forced to be reckoned with, ruler of their fates. men, though. . .she is at their service. what can she possibly do or say to him to stop this?

if grayson finds this undesirable, she will take the punishment. but she has a feeling that her brothers would be much angrier with her did she fight now, rather than giving herself to the man, as she has been taught to do since birth.

have you joined our family group? she asks in a crooning voice, her muscles drawing stiff, taut--then relaxing again. stiff, then relaxed. perhaps he can scent the faint tang of fear underneath her natural aroma. perhaps he likes it.