Sleepy Fox Hollow Gave up on it, but honey, you got my hopes up

Mahler was prompt. Wylla knew he would be. After all, she was freely advertising herself, and he was not the only male wolf within a ten mile radius who might catch a whiff and be drawn in. That was, after all, the point of flaunting. He didn't need to know that Wylla was in control of herself enough to buck any other wolf; all he needed to believe was that if he didn't come, someone else would. That alone would ensure he did.

While Wylla believed that Mahler was just another greedy ass that wanted to bed as many women as he possibly could because he was insatiable and selfish, she also vainly believed he would never forgive himself if he failed to catch her, specifically. She suspected he would shirk the entire hierarchy of the pack just to do so, upsetting the balance of the ranks for the opportunity to act upon his so-called love. In fact, she counted on it.

There was more at stake than that, she knew, as she set her challenging yellow gaze upon the proud arc of his tail and beat hers through the air, but she refused to acknowledge that. Their feelings were on the line but who had time for all that? Easily sorted out later, she thought as she swept toward him, rumbling low in her throat and testing the waters with the forward prick of her ears and the burn of her gaze seeking his for just an instant. Not a challenge, per se, but she was just agitated enough to test him. Would he maintain control or would he let her take charge? Either way they'd likely reach the same conclusion, but one road was certainly more favourable to her than the other.