Lion Head Mesa [m] Elephantine

Her inaction stirred movement from the man—the rumble from his throat at first mistaken for disproval, and so when she felt the grip upon her wrist, she almost flinched—glacier eyes bearing widely toward the molten lava of the divine one who beckoned her now.

While there was no fury in those seering eyes, there was hunger, and she felt her heart stutter at the thought as her gaze traced the finely crafted cheekbones of such a beautiful tempest. He was alluring—the fire to her ice, and any stricken thought of right from wrong was instantly reduced to ash. “How should I assist you, my King?”

She almost could not recognize the low octave her voice took on—nor the whisper of it.