Lion Head Mesa Nefrew

Neith believed he was her lion brother. Perhaps she was too adoring of him to see that he was not a lion at all. 

Den was of Sobek. He was order in chaos. He was the cunning crocodile who waited beneath the surface of the water for his opportunity. Patient and watchful. He learned. There was no lion in him. There was another sharp-toothed predator that had breathed life into his young body. 

As Neith wriggled, illuminated with golden sunlight that made her pale coat glitter, Den gripped her tighter in his arms and nibbled at the underside of her throat with rumbling growls from his throat. Kisses were interspersed in his teasing nips.