Hushed Willows [m] It's all fire and brimstone, baby

Lorcan’s smirk widened as he caught her words, the cool, cutting edge in her voice both dismissive and strangely inviting. He had known her type—women with fire in their hearts and disdain in their eyes for anyone foolish enough to think they could be swayed. Yet her sharpness only seemed to intrigue him further.

Ah, but demons, he drawled, stepping a little closer, allowing the barest hint of a laugh to color his words, don’t always make themselves known so easily. They haunt the places no one dares to look. His eyes gleamed as he watched her, his tone a playful contrast to her contempt, as if her disdain were only part of some elaborate game.

Besides, he continued, taking in the blood-streaked fur along her jaw, I wouldn’t dream of hiding in the shadows when there’s such a view from here. He let his gaze linger, intentionally and with just enough boldness to test her patience, before adding, So tell me, demon—do you make it a habit to haunt these woods alone, or am I just lucky today?