Ravensblood Forest and iron filling her lungs

Donovan’s glowing orbs watch her form rise from the shallow river. The water rivulets dripping down the raven blacks marbled with the dusting of that deep brown. The intensity of the situation is not something he expected. Though now he really does know just how sacred blood is to her and her former pack. Who is he to deny a lady such an interesting request. 

As she settles closer to him and turns her face another direction to show the wound Donovan inches closer. His golden hues run appreciatively along her form and then they flick up to her face.

“Mm,” he hums appreciatively at the first taste of blood when his tongue runs along the wounded area. Noticing the tension he holds he looks to resolve it as much as possible. “Relax, darling.” He says huskily. His odd colored tongue brushes languidly along the split flesh. Her blood pooling on his tongue as he laps sensually at the wound just to give the act that extra bit of tension he’s sure she can feel.

The taste of blood is intoxicating as usual and he almost wants to nip at the wound to spout more crimson from it. Though he settles with heated, flat tongue kisses to the cut. Then teasingly, his coin-gold eyes flick up to her once more. His golden hues are heated and he tries to make it as enjoyable for her as he’s able to.