Bearclaw Valley That I'm not the carefullest of girls

Cole’s reaction was sharp, honed by years of instinct.

As her teeth lunged toward him, his body shifted, sidestepping her attack with a precision born of necessity. A deep snarl rumbled from his chest, and his powerful frame moved to counter her aggression. His jaws snapped toward her scruff, intent on halting her advance, but not cruelly. He aimed to pin her, to stop the fight before it escalated further.

His weight bore down on her, paws pressing against her shoulders as he attempted to hold her to the ground. But his grip, though strong, left space for resistance—a chance for her to twist, to fight back if she so chose.

The air between them was heavy with tension, his green eyes locked onto hers, watching, waiting. She had a choice to make: yield or continue.