Firefly Glen this love it is a distant star

Lorcan’s eyes gleamed with a dark satisfaction, like the glint of obsidian catching moonlight. Her trembling resolve fed his twisted sense of delight, a wicked thrill stirring within him as he watched her struggle to stand her ground, to face him with a defiance he found endearing and laughably futile.

He moved forward, a shadow given form, his approach as silent as the fall of night. Her question hung in the air, laced with trembling bravery that he could taste as easily as the sharp scent of her fear. His lips twitched into a slow, predatory smile as he drew close enough to feel her shaky breath warm the cool air between them.

Special indeed, little dove, he murmured, his voice just above a whisper, a soft promise wrapped in danger. He reached out, bringing his muzzle down with exquisite slowness, grazing the edge of her cheek with the barest brush. His breath fanned over her fur, deliberate, intimate, allowing the sensation to linger before pulling back just enough to look into her wide, unsettled eyes.

Fear makes you lovelier, he purred, his tone laced with mockery and intrigue. Her defiance flickered, but he could sense the cracks beneath it. Her pulse beat wildly, a symphony of anxiety and intrigue playing to his every step, her every quickened breath an invitation to take her further into the darkness she dared to confront.

With a glint of amusement, Lorcan circled her, his form slipping in and out of the shadows. He kept her within his reach, his presence pressing down upon her like a raven watching its prey, letting the silence speak for him as he toyed with her courage, savoring every fractured piece of it.