Lion Head Mesa Thlípsi

When the autumn maid spoke his name, Arsenio frowned.

It was not a question that he had anticipated from her. The Greek man would have wagered that she would have sooner lashed him with her tongue than speak it. He’d rather enjoyed the game of trying. No, she wanted to know if he wished to bed her. Heat rose in his belly and he lifted his head upward, shaking it back and forth in a solemn no that did not last for too long.

Arsenio’s crown fell and he smiled sheepishly.

Yes, but- a great sigh rose from his lips as he took a step back from Tamar, frustrated himself at where their conversation had led. But not like this. The misthofóros did not know what that meant, even to himself. The auburn wolf frowned deeply, fixated for the first time on the woman’s feet.

Not without good reason, without fire between us both.