Iktome Plains [m] bouch san

a man, calling. mireille cut her voice away and let him drift through the snow to her. he was pale himself, tall. any other time she might have preened at his handsomeness. now she was only poised, a growl vibrating her throat.
yet posture invited closer the wanting male; her body was all warning and beneath, the softness of desire.
would he take this risk?
her emerald eyes watched, implacable.