Wheeling Gull Isle nemiyon

He had smelled it before, on other she-wolves, though he’d never been this up close and personal with someone in heat. Caracal gulped, just barely stifling the impulse to inhale deeply. His mouth started to water, which was kind of weird.

It was a little difficult to focus, so he held his breath as Heda spoke. She mentioned a presence, then prayers and dreams. Caracal emptied his lungs with a quiet whoosh and tried to ignore the lust humming in his veins.

Tell me about it, he urged her, even though a baser part of him wanted a little less conversation, a little more action, please.