Ankyra Sound of faces pressed to bloodstained panes

the wind raked its claws through the pine canopy, but erzulie's attention was held firmly by the male wreathed in scars. some strange sense of possession rose in her chest, a sensation she was unused to feeling for men — he belonged to her, at least for the swathe of time it would take for the fire to leave her.
and yet he belonged to no one; he was feral, wild, as was she. the harlot approached with swaying hips, the plume of her tail arching up over the base of her spine, and purred a greeting as she moved catlike beneath his muzzle. rosalyn she loved; firefly would father her children. there was nothing to say that this must be a purely medical affair; erzulie would prefer it otherwise.