Noctisardor Bypass I own that technology now.

Once, they’d been so close they came together in a serpent’s dance. Now their dance was one of tongues and flames, fangs just barely out of reach and waiting for their moment to sink into vital nerves. 

Anselm was cut off; his ears swung back as he showed his teeth. She was crazy, he decided — crazier than the last time he’d talked to her. 

And she was cruel, too. She felt around for the sore spots in his psyche and upon sensing the vulnerable patchwork, thrust her entire being through it — excavating every sense of him until all he felt left was a gaping hollow. 

Anselm wanted to shove her aside — but the image of a battered Druid stayed his hand. Vhat is vrong vith me not leaving, Heda? Do you vant me to leave you? He half-snarled, half-cried — Anselm would not be likened to his father. 

If Mahler had imparted upon Heda anything, it was his casual cruelty.

Anselm ignored the remark she was better than anything he’d imagined for himself — but the comment about him holding nothing dear he could not ignore.  You know that is untrue. Anselm’s muzzle contorted in lines of displeasure.

 The riposte he prepared fell short as Heda mentioned his mother. Anselm’s ears cupped forward with umbrage. Don’t. He snarled, feeling his fur stand on edge