Black Morass cus i’m heartless

a woman approaches, who lorcan must admit, isn't too bad on the eyes. but she looks at him, and his wife, as if they are lesser. and lorcan feels the fur upon his scruff bristle, 'cus he fucking knows he isn't lesser. he's a bastard but he's a damn good one.

golden eyes slide suspiciously between the strange woman and envy. feeling his own woman press closer to him, and he responds with a nose to her forehead, a whisper only she can hear, ushering her to be calm.

she's safe with him.

he draws his head back to speak, roughly: envy? a questioning tone that said all it needed to.