Sawtooth Spire Your love will be safe with me.

A man dressed in rich gold and iridescent silver—vibrant in the ways that Akavir remained darkened. The she-wolf looked between them both—his own fang exposed when the other spoke, and then slipping back to tuck behind a controlled lip—it was not the man that intimidated him, but the mere scenario that called attention to barbaric antics—

—she remained rooted to the spot, and thus, the Mayfair shifted closer to the other man, eyes cast upon him in appraisal and consideration. “Not that I know of,” he offered the man, wondering what it was that would occur from here.