Duskfire Glacier [m] born with other names

he had smelled her long before she approached, her scent weaving through the frozen air like an intoxicating spell. it was thick, heady, impossible to ignore. his body ached with it, his blood drummed in his veins like a war beat.
his restraint was legendary. but even a king could falter.
he turned as sulukinak prowled closer, her movements unrestrained, eager. she was drunk on herself, on him, on the pull of nature, and for a moment—just a moment—he allowed himself to revel in the thought of it.
then came svalla’s voice, sharp as a blade cutting through the fog of his thoughts.
his emerald eyes flickered, drawn first to sulukinak, then to svalla, whose form stood rigid, demanding. an old, familiar thing twisted in his chest, something territorial, something protective. his cousin—fire-born, fierce, full of the same hunger he bore. she was not wrong to question, but her words stoked an ember that had already been threatening to consume him.
it is not a crime to indulge in pleasures, svalla, he finally spoke, voice rough, rasping, guttural from the weight pressing against his chest. his eyes lingered on her, testing, pushing—challenging her so called claim, if she dared to make one. especially when her body demands it.
he stepped forward then, slowly, methodically, towards sulukinak, his presence swallowing the space between them, his breath ghosting against her fur. he was close enough to feel the heat rolling from her, his body betraying him with its own response.
but he did not touch her. not yet.
instead, he turned his head just slightly, gaze flickering back to svalla.
or do you object?
his voice was knowing, edged with something dark, something teasing—something just for her.