Herbalists' Cache but my aching soul

blackfell lands hard, back pressing into the snow beneath her weight. the cold bites into his spine, but the warmth of her thaws that cold. onyx man huffs out a breathless laugh: fine. you have me. i yield. his eyes squint with his joy.

a swift arm reaches around her, pulling her flush against him, dragging her down into the snow with him. playful growl rumbling deep in his chest as he traps her against him as she thrashes.

you fight dishonorably, teeth flash when he rumbles words against her ear. bringing his cold nose to swipe against the flesh there, then against her cheek, bearing down his weight against her so she cannot escape his warm affections. seeking to place a kiss on her, wherever she might allow.

i forbid you from teaching our children your dirty tactics. a challenging growl. he knows he cannot forbid her from anything, and so that is what makes it so fun to try. not some manly urge to control, but hunger to see her flame in any capacity.