Kildeer Rest vòlkan [m]

Again did her wild voice ring in his ears, and the silky tresses shifted up for just a moment, then swept forward with intent. Akhtar lowered his head, peering curiously at the woman across the way.

She was red, and small, and he could just barely pick up the color of her emerald eyes from this distance. The sighthound waved the end of his tail as it curled up over the rest of his furred tail. 

He released his own sound, a low noise that became a hound’s bay. He took several steps forward at that, voice thrumming in his chest. A song his ancestors knew, passed through bone and blood and the curls of dna and his own fur.

Call it seduction. Akhtar called it art.