Firefly Glen this love it is a distant star

Lorcan's lips curved in a hint of a smile, his expression a finely crafted mask of civility, touched by something darker beneath. He circled her like a raven shadow slipping through dusk, his movements smooth, deliberate, feigning an air of patience as though he had all the time in the world to savor the prize before him. Her question, thin and trembling, only deepened his amusement.

Who am I? he murmured, barely a breath, his voice a dark caress against the tension she held. He leaned in, his gaze brushing over her as if to savor the way her body tensed, the way her eyes darted yet remained caught, unable to break free of his grip.

With an unhurried step, he came around from behind, his form closing the space so subtly, so seamlessly, that she wouldn’t have noticed until it was too late. He let his muzzle dip to her side, and with a swift, teasing nip, his teeth grazed the tender skin along her thigh. The touch was feather-light but filled with a possessive, simmering intent. She was indeed a precious thing—rare, trembling with both fear and the thrill of his attention, her pulse a cadence that thrilled him.

Lorcan lingered there, letting her feel his presence, his breath brushing over her skin before he lifted his head, casting her a look rich with feigned courtesy and a glimmer of something far less restrained.

My dear… does it really matter? he murmured, his gaze still holding her fast, knowing full well she wasn’t slipping from his hold anytime soon.