Totoka River teeth like kindling

raven prince. a nickname that sinks poison-tipped barbs into his flesh. fills his mind with venom and with dreadful memories of his past. he was no fucking prince—not anymore. his patience is waning, his wrath typically kept on a tight leash slipping like grains of sand between fingers. 

"who said i had any honor?" comes his snarl. but they both know the truth, don't they? they both know the troubled hero couldn't be inclined to hurt, to maim. but gods, does he wish he could. he could tear the man in two and leave his innards for the crows to feast on. 

disgust veils a thrill the crownore cannot name. a fleeting shock that rolls through coiled muscle at the repulsive but enticing touch to his chest, the rancid breath against his cheek. he despises it. hates it. fucking loathes it. 

"big words for a small man. i could have let you wither away into nothing but bone. and you have the fucking audacity to taunt me." his words sharp as a blade, laced with venom. "you're as stupid as you are weak." another snap of jaws, just a hairs breath away from that throat.

and then he's reeling away from that searing touch, away from those treacherous bedroom eyes. "you follow me and i will kill you. are we clear?"