Swiftcurrent Creek nuevo

Bemusement pressed to his lips—the cloying scent of Jakoul still thick in the air, and yet now mingled with that of the other men after he had insulted her so. It riled him—a spar would do him well. With an appraising glance to his current companion, he considered this was not a spar that would satisfy his instinctual needs—he would not be rough with her—could not. Perhaps later, he would seek Arric to blow off some steam.

Or, at the hint of flirtation in her voice, he would simply find another means to tether his energy.

He led them to a clearing—thick along the edges with pine and birch, the gentle sway of the creek’s musical note still present as background noise. He turned to her, champagne eyes softening to her own bright stare. “Have you ever played on a beach with sand? Molded it?” Amusement clung to his form, then. “We can mold many things, Silvertongue.” He began to circle her, a dark panther on a prowl, testing his prey. “A beautiful she-wolf, looking to lure others into thinking her harmless until she shows her true hand? A woman as wild as the river waters, tumultuous, unforgiving.” He paused. “Should we mold a queen?” A wry grin as he closed in further to her, teeth aiming to give a playful tug to her ear, should she allow it. “But you might want to tell me your preference.”