Hushed Willows panacea

Her voice is resonant and wild, a heart-song that soared high to twine with his own. Only when the wind carried the melody away did his attention return to the woman, watching with a heavy gaze as she approached him, eyes hugging her form as the distance between them shrank to nothingness. The blood that marred the both of them was stark against her coat and again, he was reminded of the valkyrja. 

Her tongue ran against his fur, a crooning note slipping his throat before his jaw lowered to sweep his tongue across her cheek. The blood he tasted was different than that of the hellcat's, aphroditic and sweet. A new lust swept through him, though it was a desire as old as time itself; he made no effort to temper that desire, applying teeth to nip and nibble at the base of her ear, the crest of her neck, her shoulder.

He would cloak her in his scent, drown her in his lust, strengthened and embolded by the blood of their battle.